


stop and stare

by theia



Series: city of dreams [1]
Category: Day6 (Band), GOT7, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, College AU, Depression, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, and also, i mean the hyung line is working already so, im so bad at tagging my stories, jae and brian are basically live-in partners but they’re both in denial hmm i wonder why, kind of, mentions of - Freeform, mentions of domestic abuse, oh well, semi-fluff, the struggles of living together, wonpil just wants to play the piano godammit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-06-05 16:05:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 48,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15174350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theia/pseuds/theia
Summary: When he finally did speak, his voice was deep and husky and filled with emotion.“Of course I always think of you, hyung.” Dowoon took his face in his hands, the gauze that wrapped halfway down his palms rubbing against Sungjin’s cheeks. “No matter how stupid and sad I become, I’ll always be good to you. I love you.”And Sungjin—Sungjin wasmelting.He very much was, because Dowoon was exuding such warmth and he was flustered and shocked and breathless, to the point where breathing was a chore and speaking was more so.Dowoon loved him. Dowoonloveshim. Maybe that thought alone was enough to make his smiles genuine and get rid of his panic attacks and solve every problem that was plaguing him, because Dowoonloves himand it was the most unbelievable thing that has ever happened to him after finding out he wasn’t related to the tyrannical bitch he called mother.orthe one where HRM student Dowoon is head-over-heels for the painfully oblivious Sungjin





	1. i’m staring down myself, counting up the years

**Author's Note:**

> jahsjdkd wow i’m posting another story after soooo long. this feels unreal.
> 
> but hello, i’m back. i’ll be writing tons of day6 fics from now on, all in the same fictional universe (which is the city of namseo). i hope you guys enjoy this :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 06.07.18: edited  
> 30.05.19: added a pic (as if i needed any more fuel to my absolute love for this ship)

**__ **

**_Sungjin_ **

It was supposed to be a normal work day for Park Sungjin.

Granted, he was currently in a heated argument with Kang Younghyun, his business partner who, for whatever reason, wanted magenta walls for the exterior of their office building instead of the traditional white.

“Dark-colored walls are harder to maintain than white ones. The paint doesn’t age as gracefully, no matter the quality.” Sungjin proclaimed. He knew he was correct; the fiery glint in Younghyun’s eyes faltered for a split second, and he was filled with a slight sense of accomplishment.

“That’s not the problem.” The red-haired man leaned back in his leather upholstered chair, peering into his notebook. Sungjin bit down a triumphant grin.

Younghyun flipped a cream-colored page, toying with the corner with his slender fingers. “We’d look like every other office building in Minseok-gu. As a newer company, we’d be missing out on a chance to truly stand out from the competition, and we can’t have that.”

Ah… there it was. That was the quality that Sungjin can never hope to have, something that Kang Younghyun seemed to be the embodiment of: _uniqueness_. Simply conforming was not Younghyun’s way—it was Sungjin’s.

Sungjin tapped his pen at the edge of the table.

“But you have to remember that a majority of the bigger clients in Namseo-si have sophisticated tastes, which often leans towards minimalism more than anything else.” Younghyun gave a single, slow nod as Sungjin continued speaking. “Being greeted with such a bold color before even entering the building is a little…”

“Overwhelming?” Younghyun supplied. Or, more aptly, _challenged_. “Of course it would seem that way to you.”

Before Sungjin could even form a response, three sharp raps on the door cut through their conversation. Younghyun said “Come in” and the door immediately swung open to reveal their pale-faced secretary.

“Sungjin sunbaenim, you have a very important call.” She paused to catch her breath. Sungjin stood, dread forming in the pit of his stomach.

“Who is it?” He asked, eyebrows knitted together. He could see Younghyun’s curious gaze in his peripheral vision, but nothing could distract him from the sinking feeling that began to take root in his chest.

“It’s the guidance counselor of YTU, Mrs. Seo.”

Oh _god_.

Sungjin took a deep, shaky breath. “What did Dowoon do this time?”

He gripped the edge of the table, as if to brace himself for his secretary’s next words.

Soon, he found himself spamming the elevator’s down button, his heart lodged in his throat. Younghyun caught up with him just as the metal doors slid open.

“Don’t go blaming yourself again, Sungjin-ah.” The red-haired menace placed a hand on his shoulder, a gesture most likely meant to be comforting but ended up inducing even more anxiety.

“Impossible.” He muttered under his breath, quickly stepping into the elevator and pressing the B button. He caught a glimpse of Younghyun’s concerned expression before the doors closed, and the elevator began its descent.

After breaking more speeding rules than he could count, Sungjin finally arrived at Yoon Taewook University’s Student Services Building. One of the staff members offered to show him to his destination, but he refused them with a small smile. It was rather embarrassing to admit that he knew this place well by now.

He walked further down the hallway, past a gaggle of students talking about their electives. For a brief moment, he imagined one of the taller men as Dowoon, horsing around with his friends and complaining about the English elective his hyung had forced him to take.

There was a sudden, sharp pang in his chest, and his steps slowed to a halt. His eyes stung, and the faint, dull throbbing in his temples since this morning had noticeably turned into a full-blown headache.

 _God_ , only Dowoon could do this to him.

Sungjin barely managed to collect his wits as he forced himself to proceed. Two sharp knocks at the guidance counselor’s office, and the oak door swung open immediately.

His eyes instinctively searched for a head of curly black hair, and his heart nearly dropped when they found him.

“Mrs. Seo, good afternoon.” He was greeting the counselor, but his eyes were fixated on Dowoon. More aptly, he was counting the band-aids and bruises on the younger man’s face, his stomach coiling tighter with each new one he sees.

“Mr. Park, please have a seat.”

Sungjin plopped into the gray armchair. Dowoon looked at anywhere but him, and it reminded him of that one day in the hospital so many years ago. It was a painful memory, something he wished to never witness again, but it seemed to be nothing but a dream at this point.

The guidance counselor briefed him about Dowoon’s case and his resulting suspension, but Sungjin was deaf to her words.

“Mr. Park.”

Sungjin’s ears rang. He closed his eyes briefly, before facing the counselor on the other side of the desk with a barely-there smile.

“I called you here because I know Dowoon-ssi would not have told you about this incident otherwise.” She offered a small smile. “I know this must be hard for you, but I trust that you can help him. So please, utilize the next two weeks as much as you can.”

“Of course.” He rasped out. It was a given for Sungjin to help Dowoon in any way he can; she didn’t need to tell him something so obvious.

He made his way out of the office. The only indication he had of Dowoon following him was the slight thudding of his footsteps, and the soft grunts he forcibly bit back.

“Do you need help?” Sungjin kept his voice low, knowing the younger man would be able to hear him clearly regardless.

“No.” Dowoon’s deep voice cut through his hazy thoughts, echoing through the now-empty corridor. “I’m fine.”

 _You clearly aren’t_ , Sungjin wanted to scream at him.

They made their way to the car. Sungjin was about to go over to Dowoon’s side to help him in, but he was stopped by a glare from the twenty-three year-old, who pulled the car door open and slowly stepped inside.

The drive back home was deathly silent. It took only fifteen minutes to get to their apartment from the university, but it felt like an hour had already passed. The afternoon sunlight flooded into the vehicle, coloring Dowoon’s face a bright amber and accentuating the scars and contusions that marred it.

“I’m sorry.”

That’s not what Sungjin wanted to hear, and they both knew it.

 _I’m just glad you’re okay_ , Sungjin wanted to respond, but that wasn’t true. He was upset in ways he couldn’t even comprehend, all because Yoon Dowoon couldn’t treasure himself as much as Sungjin treasured him.

“I fucked up, again. I know—I—“ Dowoon struggled to find the right words, his breath catching in his throat. “I’m sorry, hyung. I don’t have any excuses this time.”

Why was it, whenever Dowoon was on the verge of tears, Sungjin felt like his internal organs were slowly being ripped from his body?

“No.” He gripped the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles turning white in the process. “Stop apologizing.”

“I’ll do better.” Dowoon swallowed audibly. “Don’t hate me, hyung. Please.”

“Of course I won’t.” Sungjin whispered. “I’ll never hate you, Dowoonie.”

But he will hate himself, _always_ himself. He dialed Jaebum’s number as soon as he was in the privacy of his room, and invited him out for a drink.

 

~*~

 

**_Jae_ **

Park Jaehyung had observed some pretty abnormal things in his twenty-* **bleep** * years on this planet.

He was there when it suddenly rained sheets of ice in the otherwise tropical country of Indonesia. He was also one of the people who witnessed those floating white orbs in Pheonix, Arizona, which the governor immediately covered up as a mishap with the state’s aircrafts. That explanation was total bullshit, by the way—Jae didn’t get a PhD in Psychology just so he could be tricked by a cynical old man who seemed to be unable to think for himself.

Political commentary aside, the above things—while touted as unnatural occurrences—can possibly still stem from an unknown abnormality in nature. Hence, it’s very plausible and can _totally_ happen again, but—

Well, one thing he never thought would happen again, something he always believed to be a spur-in-the-moment abornmality in the history of all abnormalities, was Park Sungjin shedding copious amounts of tears at his (or well, Brian’s) doorstep at three in the morning on a Tuesday night.

It was an oddly specific thing, really. It happens when Jae gets kicked out of his apartment yet again for not paying rent for the fourth consecutive time, and instead of sleeping in his otherwise cold clinic he opted to beg Brian Kang to let him stay the night or else he might _literally_ go crazy, and a psychologist does not simply “go crazy”. After Brian relents and gives Jae full permission to sack his kitchen, he turns on the coffee maker at an ungodly hour in the morning and watches some Netflix.

Perhaps the only difference this time around is that Jae’s watching _Set It Up_ instead of _Designated Survivor_ (oh, the irony of it all). He would hear sharp knocks on the front door and lots of sobbing, and would ignore it at first because he was at the good part of the thing he’s watching and really couldn’t be arsed to walk all the way over to Brian’s room and wake him up and tell him to deal with whoever was at the door. But minutes later, his conscience, which he always believed to be non-existent, would figuratively kick his ass and force him to stand and stretch his knobby knees and pull the door open with a soft grunt.

His reaction to Sungjin curled up on the hallway floor slightly differed this time as well, but only because he’s seen this before and he doesn’t pity him as much as he did two years ago.

“The fu—“ Jae stopped himself, instead opting for a big sigh. Sungjin raised his head, and as if he couldn’t become any more pitiful than he already was, yanked at Jae’s arm until he was down to his level and hugged him, like, _really_ tightly.

Sungjin began sobbing, yet again, and he smelled very strongly of alcohol and Jae’s sensitive nose couldn’t bear it. He pushed the younger man away, keeping him at an arm’s length as he mentally willed Brian to suddenly wake up like last time and help him carry Sungjin inside because the man couldn’t be trusted to speak, much less to walk on his own two feet, and Jae wasn’t exactly the strongest person you’d find in a one-mile radius from here.

“Wait here. Let me get Brian.” He patted Sungjin on the head as he climbed to his feet, which was hard to do because this goddamn apartment’s floorboards were impeccably waxed.

“Younghyun.” At least Sungjin’s drunken slur was entertaining, if not adorable. Jae could deal with that. “His— _hic_ —name’s Younghyun.”

“I know, and I don’t care.” Jae flashed the man a gentle smile. Now that he was able to get a good look at him, he gave his soon-to-be patient a little once-over. His navy blue suit was rumpled, and his tie was missing, so it will forever be lost and never found. His bangs were plastered all over his forehead, and his puffy eyes and red nose made Jae want to punch whoever did this to his precious yet stupid little bean named Park Sungjin. But he knew of only one person who could make this otherwise stoic man bawl like there was no tomorrow, and the repercussions of socking Yoon Dowoon’s face could prove fatal to a man like Jae, so that idea was immediately shot down and thrice-killed.

He made his way back inside, not bothering to close the door because he’s afraid someone might make Sungjin leave if they thought he was being a creep and hanging out in a hallway like some stalker (yes, it happened before. Don’t ask).

“BRIAN.” He yelled out, neighbors be damned. “BRIAN _FUCKING_ KANG. WAKE THE FUCK UP IT’S AN EMERGENCY.”

God, why does Brian have to sleep like the dead? Why can’t he be more like Sungjin, who wakes up before Jae could even think of pulling a prank on him?

He took a deep breath, before screaming, “ _SUNGJIN’S DYING. WAKE UP!_ ”

That did the trick.

A wild, disheveled Brian appears, his eyes as wide as saucers.

“What—Jae—“

Jae pulls him along before he could curse him out for being too loud at three in the morning. What was he supposed to do, _knock_?

“Sungjin’s dying of inebriation.” Jae muttered, slightly wheezing from all he effort it took to wake up Brian-fucking-Kang, but of course he’d never admit that to anyone. “Or heartbreak, but possibly both.”

“God, then _why_ did you—“

Brian’s words were cut short as his gaze flickered towards the kitchen, then the TV. His eyes narrowed.

Jae flashed him a wide, toothy grin, before running to Sungjin’s side as if his life depended on it, because it did. If there was one thing Brian Kang wouldn’t do, it would be to hurt his best friend—physically, at least.

They managed to haul him inside with their collective physical strength, but of course Brian did most, if not all, of the lifting. Jae turned off the TV and made himself comfortable on the armchair.

“So what ails you, my dear patient?” Jae cooed. Sungjin always liked being treated like a baby.

“Dowoonie.” He rasped out, as if that one name was his be-all and end-all. “He was bullied. He fought back, of course he did, but—“

He sniffled, and Jae felt his heart ache just a little, just enough so he could know it still existed somewhere in his chest. Brian wrapped his arms around his friend, and Sungjin, who would otherwise flinch away from such sudden physical contact, sunk into him like a child seeking comfort from his mother.

“I don’t know why—ugh.” Sungjin wiped at his nose. Jae reached for the tissue box on the TV stand and handed it to him, which the black-haired man gratefully accepted. “I… I don’t know why he’s being bullied. Even back in Busan everyone treated him badly. I just don’t understand.”

Jae watched as Sungjin bit back another wave of tears and Brian comforted him through it. His chest heaved as he sobbed quietly into the red-haired man’s shoulder.

“Does he not open up to you as much as he used to?”

 _Crap_ , he struck a nerve. Brian shot him a pointed look as Sungjin’s sobs worsened.

“Look, this is not the time to be nice.” Jae huffed. “This is clearly the same issue you had back then, when you first sought my counsel. Why do you think it’s still happening now?”

“Jae.” Brian’s voice had a hint of warning to it, but Jae didn’t care. He was a good psychologist, but right now he didn’t need to sugarcoat his words in hopes of Sungjin being able to digest it better. No—this time around, he needed to be a good friend, and from what little he knew of those rare specimens, it’s that they will always tell you the truth no matter how bad it is.

“No, Brian. He needs to hear this.” He said firmly.

He moved to sit next to Sungjin, raking a gentle hand through the younger man’s black hair as he tried to form a forgiving enough statement to not make him cry even more, but harsh enough to make him permanently change his ways. It didn’t help that Brian was looking at him with those intense eyes of his.

“You’ve known Dowoon for—what, eight years now?”

Sungjin nodded.

“He practically raised him.” Brian supplied, and Jae waved his hand impatiently. He’s heard this all before, he just wanted to hear what Sungjin had to say.

“I’ve… lived with him for the past four years. I tried to provide for him as best I can.” Sungjin swallowed thickly. Jae continued stroking his hair, which made Sungjin slowly lean into him. “Even when we were struggling financially, I made sure he still had his allowance and enough food in the fridge so he won’t ever be hungry.”

“You cared for him. It’s hard work, but you’re still doing it.” Jae patted his shoulder, as if to congratulate him. “But there is one crucial thing you’ve missed. Do you know what it is?”

He seemed to have Sungjin’s full attention now. The younger man slowly shook his head, and Jae willed the powers that be to prepare himself for the tears that were surely about to come.

“You treat him like a child. You treat him like he’s _your_ child. But you eventually have to realize that he’s not a child, and he’s not yours.” Ah, there it was. Sungjin’s dark eyes began brimming with tears, but Jae didn’t relent. “He’s having trouble expressing himself, and yet you coddle him instead of coaxing him out of his shell. I know you’ve had your own troubles in the past concerning your parents, but being too loved is just as bad as being neglected.”

“Wait—you kind of lost me there.” Brian shook his head. “What does that have to do with being bullied?”

Jae heaved a sigh. These two must be either completely oblivious, or completely stupid.

“He’s having trouble… _expressing_ himself.” Judging by the two’s bewildered expressions, Jae was unable to get the most crucial point across. He was tempted to bash his head against the wall, but what can he do? He can’t exactly expose Dowoon. “Well, he’s pretending to be something he’s not. You need to get him to open up to you, or you could just abandon all hope of him ever being sane and normal and _happy_ like every other twenty year-old in this god-forsaken city.”

It sounded so simple to coax a full-grown college student to change his disposition in the blink of an eye. But Jae knew it was possible, not only because he’s a certified genius for getting his PhD in Psychology at the young age of 20, but also because he knew Sungjin had noticed all of these things already and just haven’t acted on them, perhaps from lack of motivation to change their already good relationship.

But having a good relationship didn’t automatically mean it was a healthy one, and Sungjin had to realize that quickly and act on it as soon as possible. Jae was done pushing his friend’s limits for now, and will be more content with watching the story unfold from the sidelines. Preferably with a mug of black coffee and a bowl of white cheddar popcorn, all courtesy of Brian Kang.


	2. but i’ve become what i can’t be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what? another update ALREADY? i must be sick. or just very bored.
> 
> please keep in mind that the events in this chapter took place before chapter one because i said so, and it wouldn’t really make sense otherwise.
> 
> ramblings aside, i hope you enjoy this one.
> 
> 30.05.19: added a pic because why not

****

**Dowoon**

Jeon Jungkook reminded him of himself, somewhat. Even if their similarities ran a lot deeper than their shared major and generally aloof dispositions, Yoon Dowoon didn’t necessarily care. He stayed with Jungkook because he liked the amiable silence between them, and that was that.

It really bothered him, then, when their lunch break was suddenly filled with melodic notes instead of the usual silence. He traced the source of the noise to the back of the Engineering building, but never really got around to investigating it. He hoped it would only happen this one time, anyway, so he just let it slide.

But it happened again on the next day, and the day after that, and somewhere along the line Jungkook began showing hints of annoyance whenever even a single piano note was heard between 12 noon and 1pm. Dowoon just resorted to shoving his earphones deep into his ear canals and playing music while purposely avoiding eye contact with a pleading Jungkook.

“Sunbae.” He said one Friday afternoon. Dowoon almost didn’t hear him.

“What?” He asked, not unkindly. Jungkook gestured to the open window six feet above them, where the music came from.

“And if we see who it is? What do we do?” Dowoon was only guessing, but it seemed like he was correct. Jungkook smiled.

“Let’s beat them up.” His hoobae replied in that lazy drawl of his, strands of his bangs falling into his eyes as he spoke. Dowoon, oddly enough, found that attractive, but the thought left as soon as it arrived.

“Let’s not. I don’t wanna get in trouble again, stupid.” _I don’t want Sungjin hyung to get mad at me_ , his brain helpfully supplied.

The idea amused him, but thinking of the consequences was just too heartbreaking, and he didn’t know how else to describe the feeling of Park Sungjin looking at him as if someone had physically hurt him by inflicting wounds on Dowoon. And Dowoon didn’t know how to deal with such strong, strange feelings, that he was happy to shove it down until he’s able to recognize it later on.

Jungkook grabbed Dowoon’s monobloc chair and placed it under the window.

“You first, sunbae.”

The other man flashed him a smile, beautiful and bright. Dowoon’s heart almost stopped; for a second there, he was reminded of Sungjin’s gentle smile so many years ag—

 _Snap out of it_.

“Yeah.” He gulped down whatever words he thought of saying next, feeling his face and ears and neck heat up. He hoped Jungkook wouldn’t notice.

He stepped onto the chair, just as the music person began playing another piece. He wasn’t sure, but maybe he expected the person to be a girl with thick rimmed glasses (which every single Engineering student owns, by the way), but he was sorely mistaken. It was a guy with a square-ish jaw and pretty eyes, and he started to think for a moment that maybe he wasn’t thinking it up. Maybe the fact that he found more men in this campus attractive than women was enough indication already and he should _really_ just stop denying it.

Dowoon jumped off the chair.

“I don’t know him.” He proclaimed, but that didn’t mean much because he didn’t know that many people anyway. He didn’t even know the people who shoved him and called him names, and he didn’t bother finding out even after one of them asked _“Don’t you know who I am?”_ in a tone that was probably supposed to be menacing but wasn’t at all, and Dowoon responded with a _“No, and I don’t care”_ and walked away. He had to deal with three dead rats in his locker the next day.

Jungkook was already climbing the monobloc chair by the time Dowoon snapped out of his thoughts.

“Oh.” His hoobae said. His black jeans had a rip in the back of his left thigh, but it was too small to be noticeable. Dowoon took a step back so his face was more than a foot away from Jungkook’s butt.

“Oh?” He echoed. Jungkook took a lot less time ogling the man because, unlike him, he had no ongoing sexual orientation crisis and was openly bisexual. Or as open as he could be, given how naturally quiet he is.

“That’s Kim Wonpil.” Jungkook had an unreadable expression on his face. Dowoon sat down in Jungkook’s chair, because his hoobae was still standing on top of his.

“Who?” _Ah_ , Dowoon didn’t really care who it was, as long as he could get him to stop playing the piano during lunch so he could get some much-needed sleep. But Jungkook looked conflicted, like he had something to say but wasn’t sure if he should say it, and Dowoon kind of wanted to urge him on.

“Uh, you know Park Jinyoung?”

 _Jinyoung, Jinyoung,_ Jinyoung. That name was oddly familiar.

“Ah, wasn’t that the guy who got disowned after he was rap—“ Dowoon slapped a hand over his mouth. Jungkook shrugged.

“He wasn’t. He was caught having sex with his boyfriend.” His hoobae tugged at the end of his hoodie, as if this conversation greatly distressed him. Dowoon listened intently. “His dad found out and you know the rest. The boyfriend had to deal with shit too, because they’re from, uh, you know, traditional families.”

“And that boyfriend is… um—“ _Shit, what was his name again?_ “Uh, piano guy?”

Jungkook blinked, then blinked again. Dowoon’s gaze dropped to his feet, ears burning.

“Sunbae, I just said his name.“

“I know.”

Jungkook’s shadow slowly inched towards him. His pulse quickened, but—why? Why was he so nervous in front of his _hoobae_ , of all people?

“Sunbae, you’re so cute.”

Unbelievable. Who would ever call a big, awkward guy like him _cute?_ He raised his head to dispute Jungkook’s words, to ask _“Are you blind?”_ before scoffing and walking away. But as their eyes met, he quickly realized that Jungkook’s face was less than three inches away, and his brain short-circuited.

 

~*~

 

Park Jaehyung’s clinic went against every conceivable notion Dowoon had about clinics.

For one, every inch of the lobby’s walls were covered in abstract murals, and the only “blank” spaces were the small strips of white in between the great wall of paintings behind the receptionist’s desk. Granted, his design sense was greatly influenced by Sungjin, so bold colors and asymmetrical lines greatly offended him.

“It’s supposed to stimulate the mind before the session begins.” Park Jaehyung had told him once upon a time. Dowoon wasn’t sure just how _stimulated_ a brain needs to be before being put under therapy, but he wasn’t exactly the right person to be questioning the psychologist’s ability. He was able to help Sungjin overcome his disorder, after all.

“I thought you were working on your research or something.” Dowoon stated, but it was more like _Why am I here?_ than anything else. Jae only raised an eyebrow at him in response, before ushering him inside.

The office was clean, and shockingly plain. The bookshelf on the far left corner held more files than actual books, and the birch desk only had a moleskin journal and a single pen beside it. It was a very stark contrast to the lobby outside, and Dowoon immediately felt at ease.

“Take a seat, Dowoonie.” The blond took a seat on the other side of the desk, and Dowoon picked one of the grey armchairs to settle in.

“Make yourself at ho—“ Dowoon propped his sneaker-clad feet up on the other chair. “Oh. Got that covered, I guess.”

He made a move to take off his shoes, but realized he wasn’t really at home and should probably consider Jae’s feelings on the matter first, so he looked at him for confirmation. The older man heaved a great sigh before giving him the go signal.

“For my little baby bean.” He faintly heard Jae say as he pulled off his shoes. “My precious yet incredibly oblivious and probably stupid baby bean.”

“What?” Dowoon let his black Vans fall to the carpet. Jae’s resulting shriek startled him enough that he lightly jolted out of his seat.

He continued muttering something under his breath. Dowoon tried to contain his laughter, to no avail. Sungjin always asked him (very nicely, mind you) to not piss off Jae on purpose, because he always had a lot on his mind and tended to act eccentric most of the time. But Dowoon found him cute whenever he flailed his lanky limbs around and said weird things out loud to calm himself down, so he always found himself going against Sungjin’s wishes.

He waited for Jae to collect himself, knowing that he would slip into his professional mode sooner or later. He’s had a session with him before, after a particularly gruesome fight with Sungjin around ten months ago. For a whole week, they threw punches and hurled insults at each other whenever they were in the same room, only to have a tear-filled reconciliation two days later after Jae had the bright idea of locking them in his office and not letting them out until they sorted their feelings.

In retrospect, that probably wasn’t the most professional thing he could have done in that situation. Maybe he shouldn’t put so much blind faith in Dr. Park Jaehyung after all, regardless of his M.D. and PhD.

“Okay, let’s begin.” Jae cleared his throat, his troubled expression shifting into a more neutral one. He placed a hand on his notebook, but made no move to open it. “How are you feeling today, Mr. Yoon?”

Mr. Yoon, huh? That’s what the nurses always call him.

“Ah, hyung, please call me Dowoon.”

Jae wasn’t a nurse. He can’t imagine ever having his hyung changing his clothes or spoon-feeding him—it was a terrifying thought he ought to get rid of immediately if he ever hoped to retain his sanity.

“I’m… fine.”

The events from earlier flashed before his eyes, and he quickly hid his face before Jae could see it become all shades of red.

“Dowoon.” Jae seemed like he was having a hard time keeping his hyung mode in check. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

Dowoon forced himself to pull his hands away, leaning back against the armchair as his eyes wandered to Jae’s face.

How was he going to tell Jae that he just kissed his hoobae and he really enjoyed it, not only because he was handsome and a good kisser but also because he kinda, sorta, _maybe_ reminded him of Sungjin?

“I—“ _I kissed a guy, and I really liked it, but I imagined it was hyung and I felt so afraid that I wanted to run away as quickly as possible._ “You’re... not gonna tell Sungjin hyung, right?”

“I don’t tell anyone anything about our sessions.” Jae smiled warmly at him. “Concerning your hyung, I only tell him how you’ve been faring. But even then, it’s all in very broad terms.”

Dowoon felt a small sense of relief combat his growing anxiety. He rubbed at his temples, one of Sungjin’s habits he picked up, as he began to speak.

“I kissed a guy. Or well, he kissed me.” His voice wavered, but Jae’s gentle expression did not. “I didn’t know why I felt so attracted to him. But then I thought of hyung and, um, ran away.”

Heat rushed to his cheeks, but it felt amazing to finally be able to confide his feelings in someone. Jae nodded, slowly opening his notebook and scribbling some things into it.

“Why did you run away? What made you feel like you should?” Jae asked, placing his hand back down on the table. Dowoon noticed his red knuckles, but paid it no mind. “Did you feel confused? Or maybe guilty?”

“I—I don’t know. I just saw hyung’s face and it just felt… _wrong._ ” He dropped his gaze to the hands folded in his lap, almost ashamed that he couldn’t recognize anything other than anger, happiness, and frustration. “My chest hurt and I couldn’t breathe. I felt a lot better when we stopped.”

“What felt wrong, exactly?” The blond wrote something in his notebook again. “Kissing your hoobae, or thinking of Sungjin while kissing him?”

Huh. Dowoon never thought of that.

He just assumed that the negative feelings meant that he should stop doing what he was doing, but he didn’t think of what those foreign emotions were directed towards.

“I guess…” Dowoon clenched his hands into fists, before relaxing them. He gave Jae an uncertain glance, who coaxed him with a soft _“Go on”_ and a small smile. “It was because I was kissing Jungkook.”

Jae’s expression brightened, and there was a sudden glint in his eyes that made Dowoon‘s heart beat triple-time, and no psychologist should ever make you feel this nervous. Or maybe he was only this anxious because he was finally confronting one of his biggest fears with Park Jaehyung, of all people.

“It felt wrong because you were kissing Jungkook, and not Sungjin?”

_Sungjin hyung would be disgusted if he found out._

Dowoon fisted his shirt. His fingers trembled.

“Yes,” he croaked out. “Jae hyung—“

_You can’t burden him more than you already do._

Dowoon likes Sungjin. Hell, he probably _loves_ him. And the realization gnawed at him until there was nothing left of the walls he’d built around his feelings, until the fortress around his heart was nothing but dust.

_He only took you in because he pitied you._

Hot tears slid down his cheeks, unbidden. Jae immediately rushed over to him as uncontrollable sobs began wracking his big frame.

_Don’t be greedy, Dowoon._

“No—I ca-can’t feel this way—“

Jae took him in his arms, cradling him back and forth like the big baby he was and gently patting his back. Dowoon put a shaking hand over his mouth, as if physically quieting his sobs would cease his tears.

“It’s okay, Dowoonie. You don’t have to keep rejecting your feelings.” Jae’s deft fingers ran through his hair, massaging his scalp as he continued whispering soothing words in his ear. “You don’t have to worry. Everything will be fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was supposed to have brian’s (i meant younghyun’s *cough cough*) part in it as well but i decided to leave it with just dowoon’s. i think it’s nicer that way since it’s kind of like a flashback.


	3. but fair ain’t what you really need

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbh this chapter was supposed to be focused on parkjaehyungian but i realized i should probably just give them their own story instead of putting it in with sungwoon’s
> 
> they’re definitely still gonna play a big part in this story (and wonpil as well! i haven’t forgotten about him lol)

**_Sungjin_ **

Yoon Dowoon looked so morose with his crossed arms and sour expression, but the concern in his eyes was rather hard to dispute. Sungjin unconsciously curled his fingers around his left wrist, his gaze never leaving the other man’s form.

It was four in the afternoon. Sungjin left his office more than two hours ago, after Younghyun slammed a stern hand on his desk and made the executive decision of letting—no, _forcing_ —him to leave work early today, and to not come back until Monday morning because he said so. Sungjin’s excuses of checking paint swatches and fabric samples for his current project fell on deaf ears, and he eventually realized that Younghyun was very serious about making him take the rest of the week off or he would be put under literal house arrest.

And now he was in his apartment, still in his pastel blue suit as he glanced from the clock to Dowoon’s face, and back to the clock again.

“Don’t.” Dowoon had a slightly swollen cut on his bottom lip that Sungjin couldn’t tear his eyes away from. “If you’re gonna go, at least bring me with you.”

“You have to do community service, remember.” Sungjin said matter-of-factly, already regretting putting the words _visit_ and _Busan_ in the same sentence just a few minutes prior.

“Then don’t go.” Dowoon tone was as firm as his hyung’s, and Sungjin couldn’t help but think of how similar they’ve become over the years. He didn’t know whether to feel proud, or terrified.

“Alright. I won’t.”

Did he give in too quickly? Jae had berated him about this so many times already, telling him to hold his ground and tell Dowoon what he wanted instead of simply putting up with the younger man’s decisions. But a large part of him didn’t want to leave the injured Dowoon alone, anyway, no matter how many times his mother called him shameless and ungrateful for not visiting at all since he moved out.

“Good.” Dowoon looked relieved as he sank further into the sofa, his terse features finally relaxing. Sungjin fought the inexplicable urge to take the other man in his arms and hug him as tight as he possibly could.

They stayed in companionable silence for a while, the only noise in the room being the idle chatter from the TV, which they both didn’t seem to be paying attention to. At least, Sungjin didn’t—he kept stealing glances at Dowoon, whose ears slowly flushed a bright red as the seconds passed.

“What?” He looked embarrassed. What was there to be embarrassed about?

Now Sungjin was feeling embarrassed, too.

“Do you have something to tell me?” His words seemed to have come straight out of a drama, but he spared himself the embarrassment by not pointing that little tidbit out. Dowoon played with his fingers, and Sungjin reminded himself to change his bandages tonight before he forgot to do it again the next day.

“Not really, no.” His averted gaze and tense stature said otherwise. Sungjin scooted toward him until their shoulders touched.

“I was hoping you did.” He half-joked. “Since we’d be stuck with each other for a while, I thought we could talk all night like we used to.”

The intensity of Dowoon’s stare made something stir inside of him, something foreign and odd but not unpleasant in the slightest, and he was fairly sure it wasn’t his stomach simply telling him it was time to get some white espresso and walnut bread.

“That’d be nice, actually.” Dowoon’s gaze dropped to his hands. And when Sungjin felt the urge to touch the younger man this time around, he didn’t fight it.

He cupped Dowoon’s bandaged hands, gripping it lightly to avoid causing discomfort. He smoothed his thumb over the stained gauze, a reminder of what took place three days ago in a stupid bathroom stall in that stupid university.

“I’ve become an expert at wrapping gauze because of you.” He stroked Dowoon’s left wrist with his thumb, feeling the younger man’s burning gaze trained on his face. “I don’t like it when you come home with bruises or cuts or broken limbs, but I think it’s good that you’re able to stand up for yourself.”

“Huh, didn’t you tell me before that I shouldn’t fight?” Sungjin raised his head, looking straight into Dowoon’s eyes. “You said I shouldn’t punch them back so I wouldn’t bruise my hands.”

The show playing in the background had long been reduced to mere white noise. Sungjin raised an eyebrow at him, as if challenging him to dispute his hyung’s words.

“I _said,_ don’t fight if you can avoid it. I never said you absolutely shouldn’t.” He grinned, letting his tongue catch in between his teeth for a brief moment. “What if you fracture your hands and can’t play your drums, hm? That’d be your fault, not mine.”

Dowoon was staring at him, almost expressionless if it weren’t for the subtle, sudden quirk of his left brow.

“You tell me to not do a lot of things, hyung. Have you noticed?”

“Hmm. I guess I _do_ tell you to not leave your socks in your shoes often.” Sungjin offered a lopsided smile, which Dowoon mirrored. He still hasn’t let go of his hands.

“You also tell me to not keep secrets from you if I can help it.” Dowoon was leaning towards him, slowly but surely. His pulse quickened at the sudden closeness. “You tell me to not be sad all the time because it makes you sad too, and to not feel lonely because we’re together. But have you noticed, hyung?”

“Noticed what?” His voice dropped to a whisper, coming out even raspier than it already was.

Dowoon twisted his hands until he was holding onto Sungjin’s. He pulled their clasped hands up to his lips.

“I defy you more than you think I do.” He murmured, placing a soft kiss on Sungjin’s left knuckle, and then the other. “And the only reason I don’t cause you even more problems is because I don’t like seeing you upset, and not because I’m a good kid.”

_Not a good kid, huh?_

Sungjin’s muddled brain managed to recall Jae’s words: _He’s not a child, and he’s not yours._

Something about that sentence made Sungjin’s heart ache. It was even worse now that he was seeing Dowoon looking at him with those hopeful eyes, searching for something in his that even Sungjin didn’t know because he was at such a loss that he couldn’t even _guess_ what the other man possibly wanted from him in this very moment.

“I think I’ve noticed, but it’s not like—it’s not a big deal. You have a good heart. You always take my needs into consideration, no matter what you do.” He swallowed, as if the mere act of forcing saliva down his dry throat could help him arrange his thoughts and form a better sentence. “You’ve always been free to do whatever you want. You don’t even have to think of me, I can deal with anything, but I’m still glad that you do. Thank you for that.”

His heart felt like it was about to leap out of his rib cage, but he forced himself to keep speaking. “I don’t like seeing you sad or upset either, so I try my best to not let you down. I care about you so much, Dowoonie.”

Did he just—

Did Sungjin really just say that?

Anxiety immediately flooded into his being, causing his face to heat up and his chest to constrict from the familiar yet largely unwelcome feeling. He was about to take his words back, about to make a joke to downplay the fact that he just admitted something he never dared to say aloud before this very moment. But something changed in Dowoon’s expression, almost as if a switch has been flipped at Sungjin’s words, and he was driven to immediate silence.

He let go of his hands, and Sungjin almost instinctively reached for them again. _Almost_ , because Dowoon was looking at him so strangely that Sungjin felt nervous to be subject to such sudden scrutinization.

He didn’t speak for a long while, only staring at Sungjin with eyes that held such deep meaning to them that he felt overwhelmed and out of breath from levelling with his gaze.

When he finally did speak, his voice was deep and husky and filled with emotion.

“Of course I always think of you, hyung.” Dowoon took his face in his hands, the gauze that wrapped halfway down his palms rubbing against Sungjin’s cheeks. “No matter how stupid and sad I become, I’ll always be good to you. I love you.”

And Sungjin—

Sungjin was _melting_.

He very much was, because Dowoon was exuding such warmth and he was flustered and shocked and breathless, to the point where breathing was a chore and speaking was more so.

Dowoon loved him. Dowoon _loves_ him. Maybe that thought alone was enough to make his smiles genuine and get rid of his panic attacks and solve every problem that was plaguing him, because Dowoon _loves him_ and it was the most unbelievable thing that has ever happened to him after finding out he wasn’t related to the tyrannical bitch he called mother.

The realization suddenly hit him—that Dowoon probably didn’t love him in the platonic, familial way that Sungjin thought he did—and it scared him. Enough to snap something in his psyche, to break him down until he was nothing but a sobbing mess aching for the family he never had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *whispers* dowoon broke him mental


	4. steady feet, don’t fail me now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dunno why it took me so long to update but here it is weee
> 
> this is unedited, so sorry if you see any mistakes

**_Wonpil_ **

Kim Wonpil experienced many firsts in the past week and a half.

_ Tuesday  _ marked the first time someone talked to him out of class, let alone in the old music room he frequented because of the grand piano. It was also the first time he saw that black-haired guy with the defined jawline and puckered lips. Wonpil would be lying if he said he didn’t find him attractive in the slightest—even more so if he claimed to not be scared upon seeing the other man’s expression, because he most definitely was.

“Ha?”

He only stopped playing for a few seconds, but his fingers itched to caress the ivory keys once again. The guy moved closer, his unzipped windbreaker swaying along with his movements.

“I said, can you turn that down a bit?”

_ Wow,  _ he looked even more handsome up close. Wonpil was just about to nod and go along with his almost baleful demands, but he didn’t, because he really should stop falling for pretty faces so easily.

“I will.” He paused, long enough to see the guy’s sour face brighten up the tiniest bit. “But first, you have to tell me why.”

And he did tell him why, making that otherwise forgettable Tuesday one of the most memorable days in recent memory.

It didn’t take long for Wonpil to do some snooping around, because with the absence of his musical instruments at home, he had nothing better to do with his time. He found out that Yoon Dowoon was a HRM major who lived with interior designer Park Sungjin, who his father had apparently worked with many times before.

“He’s young yet he’s already starting his own company.” His mother had said, and continued spewing praise after praise for Park Sungjin and his wonderfully-done projects and professional attitude, but Wonpil was more interested in the fact that those two men were living under the same roof, so he tuned her out.

_ Wednesday _ was the first time he met Jeon Jungkook and Bam Bam after a red-faced Yoon Dowoon brought them to the music room. Wonpil slipped into the persona everyone liked the best, the one who is bubbly and easy to talk to. He pretended not to notice Jungkook’s furtive glances at Dowoon, or Bam Bam’s overly-eager demeanor, as if he was trying to lighten up the mood with his loud words and exaggerated expressions. And maybe it  _ did _ work, because Dowoon was smiling a couple of minutes later, right before their lunch break ended. It was the first time Wonpil saw him smile.

On Thursday night, he saw Dowoon at the lone  _ Yellow Cab _ in Minseok-gu. He was sitting on one of the smaller tables in the back, his usual messy hair hidden under a grey baseball cap. Wonpil was about to go over to say hi, but began second-guessing himself before even taking a step forward.

They weren’t friends, not by a long shot. They spent their lunch breaks together for a grand total of two days, and that most certainly was not enough to warrant going through the effort of approaching Dowoon just for the sake of greeting him. It seemed like he was waiting for someone, anyway, and Wonpil didn’t want to be a bother.

He sauntered over to the counter to order a pizza for himself, momentarily forgetting about the great significance this restaurant held for him as memories of the yellow-haired menace floated to the surface.

He made his way to the booth he and Jinyoung frequented, the one shoved to the far right of the establishment. They spent so much time here during high school, eating and chatting and sneaking glances when they thought the other wasn’t looking. That was around the time Wonpil accepted that he was gay—for Park Jinyoung, no less.

He idly passed by Dowoon’s table, wondering if the brown-haired man with the flushed cheeks and pink lips was the Park Sungjin his parents spoke so highly of.

Wonpil ended up not having to wonder, because Dowoon ended up calling him and introducing him to his “hyung”.

“Good evening.” He flashed them a bright, toothy grin. “My name is Kim Wonpil. Nice to meet you.”

Park Sungjin introduced himself. It was the first time Wonpil met someone kind, and not the kind of kind that had an underlying fakeness to it, but the kind of kind that was so gentle and pure that he was pleasantly surprised and taken aback at the same time. If Dowoon’s heart eyes for Sungjin weren’t so obvious, Wonpil would have _definitely_ been all over him right then and there.

_ Friday _ was the first time he saw Jinyoung after the “incident” three years ago.

It was rather easy to avoid seeing each other in a university as big as this, in a city full of people so dead-set on keeping them apart for being different from the rest. But he had a test for an elective he otherwise would not have cared about if it weren’t for Bam Bam, who practically pestered him to study together until he gave in.

“Jungkook-ah never studies with me.” He whined. “And Dowoon hyung just never studies, period. It’s a miracle they still get good grades.”

And so, they went to the library together. It was the newer one situated next to the Department of Letters, and housed the newest books and electronic titles. They had just checked in, and Wonpil had barely shoved his ID back into its holder when he caught a glimpse of a dashing man in a royal blue coat. He recognized him almost immediately—and, in turn, he was spotted right away as well.

He quickly learned that Park Jinyoung began living in Bam Bam’s building after being socially excommunicated from high society (or, in simpler terms,  _ disowned _ ), and that he had been continuing pre-med despite his meager monthly allowance and inability to work part-time due to the higher-than-average credits he took for that semester. He lost so much weight that Wonpil had to physically restrain himself from dragging Jinyoung to the campus canteen and feeding him every single item on the menu.

Bam Bam seemed to be content with flipping through the copy of  _ Sapiens _ he had borrowed as his two companions conversed. And they talked for so long about so many different things (except for the scandal because god knows what their parents would do to them if someone had overheard) that soon it was 6pm and the library was only minutes away from closing. Bam Bam had fallen asleep, and Wonpil had fallen for Jinyoung, yet again.

Friday was also the day he met Yugyeom after three years of no contact (which Wonpil spent moping while the younger man was probably gloating). He had dyed his hair a bright yellow, as if to prove to the world how truly happy he was, but Wonpil thought it was too stark and bright. After exchanging polite words and unobtrusively offensive (and very much fake) remarks, Wonpil, Jinyoung, and Bam Bam decided to get dinner together at  _ I Love Chicken. _ It was the biggest, most ironic “fuck you” Wonpil could give to Yugyeom and his family, and he was very pleased with himself because of it.

Saturday was spent overcoming his shock upon finding his older brother in the dining room with his parents. He was expecting his first child, and had planned a simple outdoor wedding for him and Hyesung, and—

Wonpil could care less. He ran to his room, blood rushing to his face and head and ears, wanting nothing more than to scream and tear down the certificates and medals and plaques on the wall because  _ he’s  _ here, and Wonpil hated him in the strongest sense of the word.  _ He’s _ the reason why his father threw his instruments away, why his mother kept him isolated from the rest of society for sixteen years to prevent him from rebelling against their wishes.  _ He’s _ the reason why his parents have placed all of their expectations on him, because his hyung was air-headed and carefree and can’t be trusted to do anything but bring disgrace to their family. But he had something Wonpil could never hope to have, and that’s what infuriated him the most. His hyung was allowed to be happy with the person he loved the most, the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, because he was a man and she was a woman and that was the only kind of love this society accepted.

It was the first time Wonpil cried in such a long, long time.

 

~*~

 

**_Dowoon_ **

The city-owned orphanage was bigger than Dowoon thought. It was a brightly-colored concrete block situated in the small area between the commercial establishments and residential buildings of Yongjin-gu. He thought of it as a relatively nice place to live; the caretakers were kind, sometimes strict, but Sungjin had said before that discipline was an important part of a child’s upbringing, so it wasn’t too much of a big deal for him. The building itself was nice, as it had a rather homey interior with spacious, well-equipped play and study areas, as well as almost-but-not-quite-cramped bedrooms. He couldn’t believe it was government-funded at first, but when he remembered the exorbitant taxes Sungjin had to pay on a monthly basis, his doubts were immediately quelled.

Dowoon had stumbled into the nursery on his first day, unaware that he would be attacked by a bunch of two year-olds who would proceed to get saliva and snot all over his black sweater. He managed to get out relatively unscathed, but  _ very _ worn-out. 

Still, he was thankful that he managed to get lucky with the community service assignments—Jungkook had to scrub sinks and toilets in the city hall, which was the second worst place anyone could ever end up in. Dowoon could have ended up there with him; or worse, in the city jail, where rumors of rape and murder and everything in between practically scared any would-be troublemakers in the university from doing anything out of line.

The only real gripe Dowoon had with the orphanage was his non-existent break time. He had to assist Mrs. Doh with the children during breakfast, and help them brush their teeth afterwards. After that, they would spend some time in the smaller playroom in the east wing, where Mrs. Doh and one of her female assistants (whose name Dowoon already forgot, because  _ of course  _ he would) would teach letters, shapes and numbers to the kids. By the time Dowoon would finish washing the plates and pots and pans used for breakfast, the kids would have woken up already and he would be in charge of preparing for lunch while his stomach begs him for food.

He would make quick work of it, and later get scolded (or praised, depending on the head cook’s current mood) for his cooking skills, which were understandably hampered by his bruised fists. By the time 3PM rolls around, Dowoon would already be too exhausted to even  _ think _ of eating, and would just collapse in his bed upon getting home.

Sungjin had already given up on bringing lunch for him after his first few attempts failed (since Dowoon was too busy washing colorful kiddy utensils to notice his phone ringing in his pocket). Dowoon himself had already given up on the prospect of eating lunch during his two weeks of community service, as it would be much too troublesome to ask Mrs. Doh for a proper, one-hour lunch break when he only works until 3PM anyways.

Imagine his surprise, then, when the head cook burst into the kitchen with an almost glazed look in her eyes. She gushed over a young, handsome man with the most impeccable manners, and Dowoon was filled with curiosity and a smattering of dread.

“Sungjin hyung?” He muttered under his breath. Dowoon removed his rubber gloves, and the cook immediately ushered Dowoon outside.

He found himself awkwardly fumbling with his apron as he approached the lobby. He spotted Kim Wonpil chatting with the red-faced receptionist, and a small frown tugged at his lips.

Ah, what made him think it was Sungjin? His hyung was deliberately avoiding him for the past two days, and Dowoon was too scared and too  _ hurt _ to confront him about it. The best option for the two of them was to simply forget the confession ever happened, and Sungjin appeared to be doing just that.

“Sunbae, hey.” His voice echoed throughout the room, coloring his ears pink as both Wonpil and the receptionist glanced at him. Then Wonpil flashed him a big smile, not unlike the one he had on the day they first met, and quickly approached him.

“Dowoon-ssi~” His bubbly tone caught Dowoon off-guard. They sat down on one of the colorful benches, and Wonpil handed him the brown paper-bag in his hands. “I got you some sashimi. There’s some soju in there too, but I suppose drinking at work is a no-no.”

Wonpil looked so proud of himself that Dowoon almost forgot about his disappointment. He took the bag, rummaging through it to find a plastic container and some wooden chopsticks. There was a green bottle inside, but when Dowon unscrewed the cap, he immediately noticed the lack of scent.

“This is water.” He deadpanned. Wonpil smiled.

Dowoon wondered how the man always seemed to have a smile ready for everyone he speaks with with. His face muscles were already tired just from thinking about it.

“I know, duh. It’s a joke.”

Dowoon snickered; not because the joke was funny, but because Wonpil had actually taken the time to visit him, and he had to hide his joy with a half-hearted laugh or else he would just embarrass himself.

“Your jokes have gotten worse.”

“What?” His sunbae feigned a pained expression, placing a hand over his chest. “That hurt, Dowoonie.”

He laughed as much as he could without choking on the sashimi he just stuffed in his mouth. His ribs were starting to hurt from all the laughing he did, but he ignored it.

“Is it any good?” Wonpil was playing with his bangs, twisting the strands of hair between his fingertips.

“Mhmm.” Dowoon hummed. He’s never had salmon sashimi this good before; it almost melts in his mouth, and he was very pleased with it.

“Good, because that’s expensive.”

Dowoon didn’t say anything despite the nagging questions at the back of his mind. Like “If it’s expensive, why did you buy it for me?”, and “Why did you even come here in the first place?”.

The latter question addressed more important matters. Dowoon recalled his sunbae saying,  _ “Maybe we shouldn’t hang out anymore” _ after the bathroom incident, but it seemed like he’s taking back his words. That, or maybe he felt guilty for seeing Dowoon’s condition that day and wanted to make it up to him since he was the only one who got out unscathed. Even Jungkook suffered from a multitude of bruises in his limbs and lower back, and  _ he _ was the one who broke up the fight. He ended up beating one of the idiots by bashing their face into the tiles until they were barely recognizable and one of their shoulders was dislocated, but that was a minor detail that Dowoon accidentally overlooked.

They stayed in silence, hovering in the space between comfortable and awkward as Dowoon kept eating and Wonpil kept watching him eating. And when Dowoon was finally done, his sunbae asked if they wanted to eat dinner together, to which he replied “Yes, that’d be nice”, because he would be damned if he had to endure yet another day of eating alone at home.

When his shift was finished, Wonpil drove him around the district. They went to the market, filled to the brim with stalls full of produce and trinkets and anything he could ever think of. His sunbae took him to the small sushi place by the docks, where they sold incredibly delicious food at ridiculously high prices, and Dowoon couldn’t keep his “ _ Omoya, _ this is expensive” habit in check while Wonpil, on the other hand, didn’t even blink when presented with the menu.

Dowoon met Kim Taehyung, a brown-haired man with eyes as big as Wonpil’s—if not bigger—who seemed to be dead-set on selling him the bouquet of flowers he just finished arranging for a client.

“He didn’t end up buying it.” He said with tears in his eyes. Dowoon almost felt bad for him if it weren’t for Wonpil’s sly, knowing gaze. “I’m so reli—I mean, I’m so pissed because I worked so hard on this, you know?”

“I know, I know.” Wonpil shushed him, patting his head almost chidingly.

Dowoon ended up buying the bouquet.

The three of them decided to eat dinner at a nearby noodle shop. Or, more accurately, Wonpil guilt-tripped Dowoon into eating with him and Taehyung even though it was 8PM already and he needed to go home to make dinner for Sungjin. Then he recalled his hyung saying he’d be at Jaebum’s place all day and wouldn’t be back until midnight, and Dowoon finally gave in.

It was situated between a 7-11 and a general goods store, in a part of the district Dowoon has never been to before. They slid into one of the smaller booths by kitchen, and their orders were taken by an unnecessarily excited Bam Bam (“I didn’t know you worked here!” Wonpil said. The blond replied with a “I didn’t know you didn’t know I worked here!”). Taehyung sang praises for their jjajangmyeon, so Dowoon ordered that, along with a couple bottles of soju to keep the growing sadness inside of him in check.

Judging from the way they talked about events and people and places Dowoon knew nothing about, it seemed like Wonpil and Taehyung were old friends. Dowoon took part in the conversation half-heartedly, painfully aware of the immense loneliness he felt despite being with his peers. And just when he felt like he should probably leave, Wonpil brought up a topic that directly involved Dowoon and his life. Specifically, the incident last Tuesday.

“You guys got jumped?” Dowoon wanted to tell Taehyung to stop widening his eyes like that, because no matter how surprised he was, it really freaked him out. “That explains Dowoon-ssi’s black eye, but  _ the fuck?  _ Why would they do that?”

“Apparently, hanging out together is extremely gay.” Wonpil joked, but there was a certain intensity to his tone that reminded Dowoon of how different he acted when he was angry.

“And going to the bathroom together is super gay, too.” Dowoon added, and Taehyung looked like he was on the verge of tears again. He vaguely wondered if the other man had always been a crybaby.

“People can be so narrow-minded.” He huffed out, chugging down a large portion of his soju as if to drown the incoming onslaught of tears. Wonpil proceeded to pry the bottle from his hands, causing Taehyung to gasp in surprise and almost choke.

“People are always narrow-minded.” Dowoon retorted. “Especially the ones who say they care about you, when they couldn’t even accept you.”

He pretended not to notice the way the two of them exchanged glances, and opted to look around the restaurant instead. Bam Bam was busy waiting tables, but he seemed to be enjoying his job. It was about time Dowoon resumed working, too, Sungjin’s opinions be damned.

“Did something happen with hyung?” Wonpil’s voice was gentle, and very much different from what he was used to. Dowoon shrugged.

“I think—“  _ he doesn’t want me around anymore  _ “—it’s about time I moved out.”


	5. i’m gonna run ‘til you can’t walk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aite so i finished this chapter on the same day i posted chapter four. i’ve been a little burned out since then so i put off editing this, but lo and behold, it’s now here. it’s still kind of shit in my opinion but i hope you guys enjoy it anyway

**Sungjin**

Park Sungjin never met his biological parents, nor did he know anything about the exact circumstances of his birth. All he knew was that he was found near the train tracks by the man he now called father, and was then raised in a less-than-loving household in the suburbs of Busan. For the first eighteen years of his life, he lived in a house big enough for him to have his own room, but small enough to not be able to avoid his family completely, no matter how much he wanted to. He was a younger brother to a noona who liked to dress him in her clothes _just because_ , and a son to a man who cared for him like he was his own child. Then there was the woman who didn’t care for him at all, who thought he was a waste of space and food and money and trying to cultivate his supposedly slow mind was a vain but valor effort.

He grew up on the notion that if it weren’t for his father taking him in on January 16th in 1994, he would have ended up just like any other beggar on the street. He wouldn’t have had a chance to live his life to its fullest potential, and for the immense act of kindness his father had given him, he was eternally grateful.

So Park Sungjin held onto the chance to make his life worth living, but there were so many things he had to sacrifice as well. He had to work part-time ever since he turned sixteen, because he knew that asking for an allowance from his parents was out of the question when he could be earning his own money already. He had to celebrate his birthdays by himself, because throwing a party and having his friends over was something he could never even think of asking for. And, perhaps the worst of all, he had to deal with feeling like he wasn’t part of the family even when he shared their surname and the common syllable, _Sung._

Things rapidly changed one summer evening, in the year 2009. Sungjin was walking home from his extended shift at the convenience store, his eyes swollen from lack of sleep and his thoughts drifting to his bed and the sanctuary that is his room. He had to deal with a middle schooler trying to buy a pack of cigarettes just a few hours prior, and was relieved to not see him and his older, scarier-looking friends anywhere in the vicinity.

Perhaps he spoke too soon. He was walking under a streetlight, his vision warped by the bright orange light and the fatigue in his eyes that he failed to notice the figure just a few feet away. A swift, hard kick to the stomach was all it took for Sungjin to fall to his knees, yelling profanities and wondering what the hell he ever did to deserve this.

He blinked through the involuntary tears, almost immediately recognizing the person who proceeded to squat down in front of him and grab his backpack.

“Just three-thousand won?” The person had beads of sweat rolling down his forehead, his gaze trained on the wallet in his hands. _Sungjin’s_ wallet.

He continued rummaging through it, as if hoping to find anything more than a couple of won, arcade tickets, and a piece of gum.

 _Joke’s on you. I never have any cash._ Sungjin clutched his midsection, forcing himself to get to his feet. He was almost tempted to call the police and inform them that Yoon Dowoon, an apparent troublemaker from Busan Middle School, had just mugged him after he refused to sell him cigarettes earlier this evening, but he didn’t.

“Just so you know, living like this won’t get you anywhere.” Sungjin began, because he had a smart mouth despite not knowing shit about self-defense. “Grow up to be a decent person, and I’d sell you as many cigarettes as you want. Hell, maybe I’d even come to respect you.”

His earlier confidence immediately melted away upon seeing the younger man’s stone-cold expression. He was so thin under that uniform of his, which seemed to be missing a couple of buttons in odd places. His skin seemed to glow from the orange lights, warming up his otherwise pallid complexion (or maybe he just looked pale under the bright flourescent lights of the convenience store—Sungjin couldn’t tell). His dark eyes held something that Sungjin was afraid to name, because _haunted_ was the only suitable word he could think of, and no fourteen year-old should ever have to feel that way.

Yoon Dowoon didn’t speak. His hands trembled, slowly curling into fists, and Sungjin knew he was done for. He was ready to run, his leg muscles already twitching from the sudden rush of adrenaline, but nothing happened. The middle-schooler only gave him a sharp, withering glare, before uttering the words that would haunt Sungjin for years to come:

“I wouldn’t be alive if I didn’t live this way.”

 

~*~

 

Sungjin woke up to fragrant white flowers on his bedside table, carefully arranged in the purple-and-gold vase Jae bought him from his last trip to Thailand. He got home late last night—or was it this morning?—and proceeded to fumble around in the darkness of the living room because he was too afraid of running into Dowoon, if he was still awake.

He was well aware of how idiotic his avoid-at-all-costs strategy was. Jaebum was more than happy to drive his point across because “It’s the first time you did something this stupid”. Sungjin replied that it was the first time he felt this afraid of anything that concerned _Dowoon_ , of all people, and Jaebum immediately shut his mouth.

They spent the rest of the day doing chores like the old men they were. They talked about anything they could think of, and soon he found out that Jaebum had failed to confess to Mark yet again. Sungjin made fun of his cowardice as payback, and Jaebum managed to refrain from punching him.

Sunday rolled around much faster than he thought it would. Thankfully, Dowoon made it relatively easy for him to feel comfortable around the house for the past few days by giving him some much-needed space.

He stood, stretching his sore back and glancing once more at the contents of the vase: magnolias, white tulips, and sprigs of lavender. Dowoon must have bought them for him—why else would there be flowers inside his room? And they were Sungjin’s favorites, too.

Dowoon was never the type to put his feelings into words; often, he would express it through small yet thoughtful gestures like this. Sungjin, on the other hand, was terrible at expressing his feelings—so he pretends to not have any.

He sighed, raking a hand through his recently-dyed brown hair. Guilt gnawed at his insides, making him want to throw up.

Sungjin was definitely in uncharted territory at the moment—in the few days they haven’t seen nor spoken to each other, it seems he’s forgotten how to act around the other man.

Was he supposed to treat him the same way? Was he still allowed to hug him out of the blue and pat his back whenever he did something good? Could they still eat at Yellow Cab on Thursday nights and watch _American Horror Story_ during the weekends? Was Sungjin allowed to love Dowoon like he used to, and avoid hurting his feelings in the process?

Sungjin knew in the back of his mind that things could go south in the blink of an eye, and that’s what he’s trying so hard to avoid. A few tactless words from him could cause everything to go into a downward spiral, and he couldn’t bear to even _think_ about what damage he could do to Dowoon’s already fragile psyche.

Sungjin closed his eyes, willing his thoughts to disappear in an effort to curb his incoming headache. Thinking of everything that could go wrong made him feel like everything _will_ go wrong.

He slipped out of his room, the pads of his feet almost instantly numbed by the cold floorboards. He shivered absentmindedly, noting the stark absence of shoes in the hallway as he headed for the stairs.

He could smell eggs and toast and bacon, and his mouth instantly watered. Dowoon was standing in front of the stove in the small space that is their kitchen. He wore his tattered black apron over the beige sweater Younghyun got him for Christmas, his hair slightly disheveled. Sungjin fidgeted as he inched towards the kitchen, his heart rate picking up.

“Morning.” He said softly, uncertainty imminent in his voice. Dowoon’s resulting shock did nothing to reduce his guilt. He turned to him, his pink lips parting into a small o shape as his dark irises met with Sungjin’s.

“Um, hi.” His ears turned red. Sungjin would have laughed and said _“So cute, Dowoonie”_ if he had no idea that Dowoon was flustered because of _him._ “D’you want breakfast?”

“That’d be nice.” He replied, almost too quickly. Dowoon’s gaze lingered on him as Sungjin decided to contemplate on the mysteries of the universe right then and there. When he turned his attention back to the stove, Sungjin spotted a faint smile on his lips.

He padded over to the coffee maker, his temples pulsating. His elbow brushed against Dowoon’s bicep as he reached for his favorite striped mug, and his heart almost stopped beating. _God,_ why was he so nervous? It’s just Dowoon.

But isn’t that the point? It’s just him and the source of his anxiety in this tight space, and that was perhaps one of the most nerve-wracking things a person could ever experience.

They ate breakfast in silence. Sungjin was hyper-aware of every single thing happening all around him: the ticking wall clock in the distance, the faint but audible buzz of the heater, the little _ah_ noises Dowoon makes after every sip of his coffee like he was in a Maxim commercial or something. His movements were stiff, like moving his arms more than a few inches at a time physically pained him. He felt so many things all at once that he wanted to wash it all down with food, because that’s the only thing he could do.

Dowoon put down his mug near Sungjin’s left hand. Their knuckles brushed as Dowoon pulled his hand away, and Sungjin tensed.

“Sorry.” Dowoon muttered. It felt like he was apologizing for more than just the accidental touch.

“I’m sorry, too.” Sungjin replied. He ought to apologize properly for ignoring him, to explain that his fear felt so raw and debilitating that he felt the inexplicable urge to run away, but he hesitated.

Dowoon shook his head, loose curls bouncing ever so slightly. “You didn’t do anything bad.”

“No, that’s not—“

Dowoon’s stern expression drove him to silence. Sungjin recoiled, as if he’d been burned.

This is it, right? This is what he wanted—for Dowoon to close himself off, to rebuild his walls higher than ever before so no one could hurt him again. But why does it feel like Sungjin fucked up big time?

“It’s okay, hyung.” He smiled. It didn’t quite reach his eyes.

 

~*~

 

**_Younghyun_ **

Kang Younghyun may not make the best decisions all the time, but he was quite skilled at distinguishing good ideas from bad ones. So when Park Jaehyung decided to pop the question, the one he’d been debating about for the past year or so, he shook his head with an immediate _no_ and ignored the blond’s bitchy whining.

Jae was always a decibel too loud for him, as if he existed in a different wavelength from everyone else in the room and can’t ever contain his loud, high-pitched voice to himself. It didn’t help that he was a mess too, in more ways than Younghyun could count, but most noticeably in his constant procrastination. Park Jaehyung was the only person he knew who would put off washing his dirty dishes for a whole week because he wanted to “give the bacteria time to culminate before I killed them off”. He was also the only person in Younghyun’s social circle who would leave his boxes and suitcases stacked in an unsightly mess in the hallway, all unpacked save for the one carrier that contained his underwear and jeans. And somehow, even after two weeks of living here, Jae was still physically incapable of opening up his other suitcases, and just opted to steal Younghyun’s flannels and sweaters so he had something to wear.

“You haven’t even unpacked yet.” Younghyun said in a mocking tone, placing a lazy arm over the pillow that separated him from Jae. “How do you expect me to live with someone so messy?”

“ _God,_ stop bitching about it will ya?” Jae groaned, throwing his arms up in a comedic manner. And he looked so ridiculous too, wearing Younghyun’s maroon sweater that was two sizes too big for him. “I’ll unpack once I finish my research.”

“ _Of course_ you will.” Younghyun replied, because Jae will _never_ finish his research. In the few years they’ve known each other, he’s never seen the man finish anything but a black bean burrito and _Vikings_ (and even then, he stopped somewhere in the middle of season four).

“To clarify, it’s not a no, but not a yes either.” He added, because he wanted to avoid Jae bringing this conversation up later on and completely twisting his words like the terrifyingly depraved man that he was.

He settled back against the headboard, eyes wandering aimlessly across the other’s form. His bleached blond hair stuck up every which way, gold-rimmed glasses slightly askew from where it was perched on his nose. For a second, Younghyun thought he looked kind of cute. Just a little, though.

“Brian Kang, you have to realize that geniuses thrive in ungodly, chaotic environments. As for me, I thrive in environments conducive to the kind of chaos that specifically takes place in this apartment.” Jae grabbed his glass of wine and waved it in the red-haired man’s face, as if to prove his point. “Hence, to not be labelled as the cause of the mental degradation of the smartest man in both the state of California and the city of Namseo, you are responsible for helping maintain my sanity by letting me, Dr. Park Jaehyung M.D. PhD, stay here at my own discretion.”

Younghyun was suddenly reminded of how smartass Jae was _way_ worse than sulking Jae.

“You can leave my room once you’re done spouting nonsense.” Younghyun faked a yawn, stretching his long arms as Jae’s expression soured. “I need a nap, got a client meeting tonight.”

“Oh, you mean _Sungjin’s_ client?” Jae huffed, pulling at Younghyun’s pillow as hard as he could before wrapping his arms around it. “You’re heartless. You refuse to let a perfectly good—not to mention handsome—man like me live in this wonderfully boring apartment with you, _and_ you go around stealing your best friend’s clients. Just how cruel can you be?”

“First of all, living with you and meeting with Sungjin’s client while he’s on leave are two different things.” Younghyun explained carefully, as if he was speaking to a child. He yanked the pillow back into his arms, causing the blond to puff his cheeks in annoyance. “The first one is more bothersome, and the second one is a duty I need to uphold because I’m Sungjin’s partner and I want him to be able to take a few days off without anything work-related bogging him down. Now, do you have any more questions or should I kick your skinny ass out of my room?”

Shockingly enough, Jae didn’t have a comeback for him right away. He appeared contemplative, and just when Younghyun was about to close his eyes and take the nap he so desperately needed, Jae flicked his nose and incited a warbled cry of pain from him.

“ _Fu—_ “

“Fuck you Jae, yeah yeah.” The blond waved his hand dismissively. Younghyun clutched his nose, glaring daggers at him. “You know, the way you said _I’m Sungjin’s partner_ made me think. You’re, like, secretly in love with him, aren’t you?”

“No. You should stop being a psychologist, you’re terrible at it.” Younghyun quipped, settling back into the bed. Jae raised an eyebrow, as if to say _stop shitting me, Brian Kang_ without actually opening his mouth.

“You can leave now, thanks.”

Younghyun flipped over the side, his heart caught in his throat. He pretended to sleep for a while, but Jae didn’t seem like he had any intention of leaving the topic—or him—alone until he got his questions answered. Younghyun would rather jump off a cliff than admit to anything.

“I mean, it’s fine if you have feelings for him. I love my little baby bean too.” Jae’s soft voice cut through the static silence.

Younghyun fell asleep soon after that. When he woke up, Jae was gone, and the boxes and suitcases in the hallway have all disappeared as well. It’s like Park Jaehyung was never there.

He didn’t have much time to dwell on it. He had less than thirty minutes to change before his dinner meeting with Kim Siwon, and he was not going to let himself be late again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> special thanks to leviah for helping me with this story. you really helped get rid of some of my frustrations weee.
> 
> thanks for always being my number one fan ❤️ i really appreciate it


	6. and i’m standing down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eh so this is more of a filler chapter than anything else;;;
> 
> still hope you guys enjoy it tho. especially jaebum’s part hehe

**_Jae_ **

Truthfully, Park Jaehyung was not a big fan of romance. He was a sucker for a happy ending, as any single twenty-something would be, but whenever he would so much as lay eyes on the newest teen romance titles on Netflix, a deep, ominous voice would sunder _“That’s bullshit!”_ in the back of his head, like a thunderstorm waiting to happen, and Jae would mentally nod in agreement.

But there are times when he would gaze upon Sungjin’s pale, sleep-deprived face, and his otherwise cynical heart would yearn for someone to work their magic on him so he could het the happy ending he so deserved. The man was always so fraught with frustration at himself and at the world, but the former far exceeded the latter.

If nothing else, Jae wished for Sungjin’s peace of mind. And he knew that their bi-monthly sessions helped in some way, shape or form, or else Sungjin would be constantly high-strung, or on the verge of breaking down—or, god forbid, both at the same time.

It was easier to diagnose the problem than to figure out a clear-cut solution for it, because this wasn’t as easy as writing a three-page essay on the effects of childhood abuse on adults, or even making a cocktail recipe for a hypersomniac man who also happened to be allergic to alcohol (because Jae’s done that already, and in one lazy afternoon at the Caribbean to boot). He wrote his diagnosis last night as he lazed about on Brian’s emerald couch, coming up with two key points for the patient in question. 

One: Sungjin is convinced that Dowoon needed to be doted on.

Sungjin is afraid to stray from their current relationship, which was uneven at best. The give-and-take part suffered greatly due to Sungjin’s own insistence over the years, something Jae himself could attest to as he witnessed it dozens of times in the two short years they’ve known each other. Sungjin was the kind of person who would give 90% to you and keep only 10% for himself, which meant that Dowoon naturally took more than he gave, despite knowing the disparity between the two facets (and yes, Jae made these numbers up, as he obviously couldn’t be expected to measure something so abstract).

As to why Sungjin acted this way, Jae was still at a loss. He knew that Sungjin played a big part in Dowoon’s life—he was the one who paid for his hospital bills, who sought out therapy for him, and in the process essentially neglected himself. On the flip side, Dowoon gave Sungjin a sense of belonging, something that was missing due to how he was alienated from his family during childhood.

Two: Sungjin is afraid of hurting Dowoon.

And that very fear crippled him in jarring ways.

Along with his mother-hen-like fretting over Dowoon’s every need, Sungjin was someone who often suppressed his feelings in favor of those around him. This was why Jae always gets so dumbfounded (and admittedly, a little heartbroken) whenever he sees Sungjin releasing his pent-up emotions through an instinctive way: _crying._

His family was a great factor in the way Sungjin expressed himself. This was something Jae hoped he’d already fixed—or at least had some decent progress with—when they went through one of the more intensive sessions in the past, but it seemed like Sungjin either threw all of his Jae-sponsored enlightenments out of the window, or simply disregarded all of them because of the escalating situation with Dowoon.

Jae couldn’t dispute the former, as it was fairly easy for a twenty-four year-old man to undo principles that are still fairly fresh in his mind. But if it’s caused by the latter, then there really is an unhealthy dynamic in their relationship.

Jae cracked his knuckles, glancing at the clock above the door. God, he really missed the days when he could bail on the appointments he had for the rest of the day and book the earliest flight to Bali or Taipei or Singapore. He’d go MIA for a couple of days, a period in which he’d spend all his hard-earned money on cocktails and shopping sprees. He would return to Namseo feeling invigorated and fulfilled, which were two adjectives he would never use to describe his usual damn-it-all self.

The last time he did this, though, he overspent and had only a little money left, and had to crash at Brian’s until he could afford to pay for rent and food again.

The door swung open, then, before Jae could dwell too long on Brian and his stupidly perfect face. A bashful Park Sungjin stepped into his office, and Jae almost threw his notebook in his haste to organize his desk.

“Aren’t you, like—“ He looked at the clock again, shoving his glasses up the bridge of his nose as they started to slip, “—fifteen minutes too early?”

Sungjin shrugged, his oversized sweater exposing more collarbone than Jae could possibly handle.

“Younghyun let me off early.”

His voice sounded thick, and horridly nasal. Jae gestured to the two grey armchairs in front of him as he gathered an armful of papers and dropped them onto the plastic bin on the shelf. Sungjin moved to sit, shuffling across the room awkwardly as if he had never set foot in it before.

Jae gave him a proper once-over, not unlike what he did some few days ago at Brian’s doorstep, but this time he kind of regretted subjecting his friend to his unwanted, albeit mental, scrutiny. Sungjin looked miserable in every sense of the word, as if he had been crying all night and muffling his sobs with his pillow so Dowoon wouldn’t hear a thing. _Now_ he understood why Brian forced him to leave early for what seemed to be the nth time, and Jae made a mental note to thank him later when he got home (and not tell him why, because he’d be so weirded out and the expression on his face would be funny as fuck).

“ _Heyyyy._ ” Jae greeted in his characteristic flat-yet-cheerful tone, clutching the top of his armchair as he followed Sungjin with his eyes. “I think someone needs a hug.” _And an ice pack._ Definitely _an ice pack._

“Younghyun gave me a hug, too.” Sungjin offered him a lopsided smile, which turned into a frown almost as soon as it appeared.

Jae remembered the conversation he had with Younghyun last night. He hauled all of his things in the guest bedroom—which he practically owned at this point, considering the number of band posters and personal trinkets scattered across said room, all of which he bought—and thought about the possibility of Brian and Sungjin dating, or having dated at some point, because they were kind of touchy before but Jae didn’t really notice because he was touchy too. But the amount of physical contact they had possibly just indicated their platonic closeness with each other, as it wasn’t a very reliable indicator of a romantic relationship, so Jae tried to swallow down whatever feelings he had by downing a couple bottles of beer (because soju tasted terrible) and moaning about stupid Brian Kang to anyone who would listen (i.e. Mark Tuan because he was the only other sane friend Jae had).

Anyway, this wasn’t the optimal time to be thinking about Brian Kang and his stupidness, so the possibility of his two closest friends having a relationship ought to be shoved to the deepest recesses of his big, Einstein-like brain. The desire to ask a clearly distraught Sungjin about it should be disposed of as well, because Jae didn’t want to be more insensitive than he already was.

“Do I look _that_ bad?” Sungjin asked, dropping into his chosen seat. He sighed as he settled into the upholstery, and Jae almost rolled his eyes.

_Fuck yeah. You look like that one time you went to my place after you mourned  Margaery’s death for three straight days even though I spoiled you about it and you absolutely refused to believe me._

Sungjin stared intently at him, as if silently urging him to begin. Jae cleared his throat, settling into his armchair as well.

He was ready to make some light conversation, to slowly goad Sungjin into divulging at least a few of the many thoughts in his head in hopes of lightening his burdens, but the younger man was apprently having none of that.

“What’s wrong with me, Jae?” He asked—no, _demanded._ Upon gazing at his swollen eyes and red nose, Jae was at a loss for words for the first time since his graduation speech in college got rudely interrupted by one of his questionably drunk classmates.

Usually, he would be happy whenever a patient asked him to give it to them straight. For one, it made his job easier, and he wasn’t the biggest fan of beating around the bush anyways. He would proceed to give them a thorough, no-holds-barred analysis of their behavior and tendencies, as well as how to possibly correct it, before leaving the room to let them to digest the sudden handful of mind-fucking information Jae just dropped on their feeble little heads.

But Sungjin looked like he was on the forefront of a mental breakdown, as if he was already tip-toeing on the edge and was simply waiting for someone to push him over, and Jae would sooner cut off his fingers rather than become that someone _._

“Sungjin-ah…” Jae trailed off, lifting his gaze from Sungjin’s tired face to the clock on the wall. And so, it begins.

“It’s more complicated than a simple diagnosis. I believe your current dilemmas lie not only in your unbalanced relationship with Dowoon, but also in your more deep-rooted emotional problems, which are not things you can easily change.”

Jae wanted to point out Sungjin’s ardent resistance to said change, as there was a possible trauma or unpleasant experience that held him back. He could ask about what Sungjin thought was the root of the problem, but wasn’t it _his_ job to get to the bottom of this?

“Still, you ought to tell me.”

Sungjin played with a loose string on his white-washed jeans, the one with little acid drips on the thigh area. He recognized it as the one he wore during his only joint therapy session with Dowoon, with the two of them sporting bruises and foul expressions as Jae tried his best to get them to reconcile.

Maybe that’s what they needed—another opportunity to talk about things they would not dare bring up otherwise, like feelings of sadness, fear, and guilt, among others. All of which Sungjin must have felt at some point in the past few days, perhaps even all at the same time.

Jae prepared to give him his formal diagnosis. He wrote the words onto a sheet of paper because he couldn’t trust himself to speak, not yet. Maybe he was acting unprofessional _yet again,_ but Sungjin’s fragile mentality concerned him more than he would ever care to admit. Honestly, it scared him, and Park Jaehyung was never scared of anything.

...except for rejection, but that was irrelevant.

Sungjin thumbed the edge of the cream-colored paper, eyes scanning the page over and over. Jae was expecting him to ask what the words meant, but he didn’t. In fact, he stayed quiet for the next three or so minutes, and Jae was starting to get antsy from his lack of reaction.

When he spoke again, his words crawled under Jae’s skin like a bunch of little spiders burrowing around his epidermis.

 

~*~

 

**_Jaebum_ **

Im Jaebum climbed the steep dirt road that led to his spot. The sun had already disappeared beyond the horizon, the last rays of its light painting the sky with deep blues and pinks and oranges. Jaebum loved the view on the top of the cliff, watching as the waves swelled and crashed over the white shores, feeling the dry, salty seabreeze on his face. Mostly, he loved spending time here by himself, lying on the picnic blanket he always carried in his bag for when he just needed to get away. He would flip through the yellowed pages of the novels Taehyung would lend him, or hum songs to himself, or do both at the same time.

Today, Taehyung lent him his copy of _Catcher in the Rye_. Jaebum wasn’t too eager to read a western book because most of the cultural nuances would go over his head, but the younger man dismissed his plight with a wave of his hand. He practically ran up the grassy incline, dirt and pebbles scrunching under the soles of his shoes. He pulled out his blanket almost methodically, when he spotted a person sitting by the edge.

No, they was sitting _on_ the edge. Their hair whipped around in the sudden, howling wind, their features slightly obscured by the growing darkness. Jaebum’s heart dropped into his stomach as they leaned forward ever so slightly.

He settled down beside them, watching the sky above darken into a deeper shade of blue. The silence was foreboding, as if there was something amiss in the few inches of space between them. Jaebum, for the life of him, couldn’t figure out what it was, or if that missing thing was something he could help with. Or, if the person would even want his help.

“Hey. You okay?”

Jaebum hoped his words would reach them, at least. Looking at them up close, he noticed the angular lines on their face and their hunched broad shoulders. A man, then.

In all his years living in Namseo, Im Jaebum has never seen anyone who looked like him before. In a way, that unsettled him even more—it meant that if this man jumped into the Yellow Sea, there’s a smaller chance of him being immediately recognized upon the recovery of his body. Moreover, Jaebum doubted that he had any form of identification in his pockets.

The man shifted, his right leg swinging in small, short motions. His fisted hands seemed to be covered in dried blood, fingers curled around something that glinted in the fading sunlight.

“What if I’m a murderer?” His voice was weak, but his words were anything but. He turned to Jaebum, a certain fire burning in his eyes. He held up his hand, palm-upward.

A lone pocket knife sat in his dirty palm. The blade was encrusted with small red streaks, and the wooden handle had numerous scratches and markings all over it.

“You wouldn’t show me your weapon if you were a murderer.” Jaebum claimed, slowly gulping down the lump in his throat afterwards. If he was wrong, and this man stabbed him in the next few minutes and toppled his body into the cold, unforgiving sea, then Jaebum would curse his stupidity before embracing his death. He had fulfilled all his measly ambitions, anyway.

“Then…” The man trailed off, his eyes flitting over Jaebum’s form as he stuffed the knife into his jean pocket.

Jaebum shifted, sweeping away the strands of hair that poked into his eyes. He wondered what he would get out of this encounter—probably a whole lot of confusion, and maybe a slight hint of sadness.

“What if I jump?”

Jaebum stared at the other man intently, hoping to get his intentions across. He didn’t seem like he actually wanted to jump; it felt more like he was contemplating what to do next, subtly provoking Jaebum’s empathy as he weighed his options.

“I’ll jump with you.” The words left his lips before he could process what he was saying. The other man shook his head in almost disgruntlement, a small smile breaking the thin line of his lips. “At least we both won’t be lonely in the end, hm?”

He grinned. Jaebum returned it, still feeling a little self-conscious from his choice of words.

Who would have thought that they would become good friends soon after?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there’s gonna be a pretty hefty time skip between this and ch 6.
> 
> also, this story will probably end up longer than i ever thought it would be. maybe i’d end up writing 15 chapters, but (AM I GONNA?) we shall see.


	7. this town is colder now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: 08.01

**_Dowoon_ **

Dowoon couldn’t fathom why Wonpil wanted to spend his birthday with this specific group of idiots. Nor did he necessarily understand the reasoning behind his seamless integration into Dowoon’s life, as if he has always been there.

The five of them were an admittedly odd bunch. There was Jungkook who liked to inflict pain, and Taehyung who liked being in pain. Bam Bam absolutely abhorred responsibility, while Wonpil vehemently upholded it. And there was Dowoon, the odd one out, with his self-inflicted emotional constipation (as Taehyung puts it) and his tendency to shy away while the rest let their thoughts and temperaments and interests be freely known.

Like Jeon Jungkook, for example, who seemed to be having an uncharacteristically hard time keeping his mouth shut.

“Did you fight with Sungjin hyung again?”

He had a bottle of beer in his hand (because Bam Bam hated the smell of soju) and a sly grin on his face. He looked ready to conquer the world.

“We never fight.” Even as Dowoon said those words, he immediately shrunk back  as embarrassment kicked him in the gut. God, he wanted to punch that smug smile off his hoobae’s face. “Why do you even care?”

“Oh, it’s pretty obvious why I care. I’m your loyal, faithful subordinate.”

Jungkook’s atypical show of mischief made Dowoon want to run away as fast as he could. They’ve become less awkward after the whole kissing thing a few months ago, but Jungkook seemed to think that having his lips touch his sunbae’s for a few seconds meant he got a free pass at teasing Dowoon about everything— _especially_ with his hopeless love life.

“Loyal and faithful are the same thing, dumbass.” Bam Bam remarked. Taehyung laughed a bit too loudly, causing one of the waiters to come over and ask them to pipe down.

Honestly, Dowoon didn’t want to care about Jungkook’s childish ministrations. He just wanted to go home and watch a little _Penny Dreadful_ , because he was getting awfully into it now. Instead, he was here drinking with these four charming yet talkative ruffians, as he was forced to listen to their ramblings and complaints and everything in between.

“Hey, stop bullying him.”

Wonpil elbowed Jungkook’s stomach, hard enough for the latter to yelp in pain.

“Oopsie. Birthday boy’s orders.”

Taehyung clapped his hands together in glee, chuckling as Jungkook doubled over. Dowoon learned that he wasn’t only a crybaby, but a self-professed masochist (and sometimes sadist) as well.

“Sungjin hyung comes around way too often, I feel.” Bam Bam spoke with his mouth full, causing Wonpil to shoot him a stern glare. The blond immediately swallowed the remnants of his fried chicken, clearly afraid of getting hurt. Or worse— _scolded._

“Isn’t he working on Jaebum hyung’s new house though?” Wonpil replied, curiosity seeping into his tone. They were all aware of how the man satiates his curiosity by doing slightly unsettling things. Dowoon was certain that none of them want that blackmailing incident from a few weeks ago to happen again.

Bam Bam nodded almost immediately. Wonpil leaned back into his seat, seeming satisfied.

Dowoon noticed Taehyung’s forlorn expression from where the man sat across from him.

“Still can’t believe he’s moving in with Mark. Everyone’s acting like they’re newlyweds or something.” Taehyung’s face scrunched up, looking somewhere between comedically ugly and awkwardly cute. He was probably trying not to cry. Strands of his caramel hair were stuck to his forehead, and Wonpil automatically reached out to ruffle his bangs.

“Mark hyung is clueless.” Dowoon smiled a little. Im Jaebum was as hopeless as he was, possibly even more so. “He looked so confused when Sungjin hyung and I congratulated hi—“

“He’s totally straight, man. Straighter than this!” Bam Bam half-yelled, waving a chicken leg bone over his head for no apparent reason other than to prove his point. Taehyung and Wonpil immediately shushed him, as if Mark Tuan’s sexual orientation was some top-secret thing no one else was supposed to know about. Or, more likely, it was a topic they shouldn’t be discussing in such a public place.

“Seokjin hyung told me he was straight too.” Taehyung stated in a low voice, seemingly out of the blue. Wonpil snickered. He was probably the only one who understood what Taehyung was referring to, since the Kim Seokjin everyone knew—bar Dowoon, it seemed—was way different from what the statement implied.

“It’s okay, Tae. People change.” Wonpil giggled, his eyes becoming all squinty. Taehyung’s expression relaxed, before he giggled as well.

“Dowoon hyung doesn’t change, though.” Bam Bam quipped. Dowoon grunted and pulled him into a headlock, the blond’s cries of _I’m sorry sunbae please stop_ and the others’ chants causing a lopsided grin to stretch his lips.

After collectively downing two bottles of whiskey and more cans of beer than Dowoon could count, the conversation returned to his troubled relationship with Sungjin. Jungkook had evolved into a red-faced chatterbox, a state Dowoon never wished to see him in ever since he saw his hoobae try to wrestle with a street sign last January. It wasn’t a good sight to behold.

“You should dump him.” Jungkook proclaimed, looking far too confident despite his drunken slur.

“Yeah. I mean no, haha _silly._ “ Bam Bam’s face was noticeably red, too. “You should really leave. I mean if you feel frustrated all the time that’s the most—uh, what’s the word?”

He snapped his fingers as he tried to recall whatever word he was looking for. Dowoon was suddenly glad that he didn’t drink that much; what if he ended up looking as stupid as he friends did? That would be shameful at best.

“Logical?” Taehyung supplied. He had a suprisingly strong tolerance for alcohol, which Dowoon was thankful for. At least he didn’t have to take care of the rest of them by himself.

Bam Bam’s eyes lit up in recognition. He nodded over-enthusiastically, before continuing where he left off.

“It’s the most logical thing you can do for yourself, hyung. It’s like, you guys need space, you two are always together all the time and it’s making you feel weird things.”

In all honesty, though, Dowoon wanted to take the other’s words seriously. But with his flushed cheeks and overall drunkenness, that was quite a feat—especially since Wonpil was passed out in front of him, drooling on the wooden table like his life depended on it.

“Not that I think loving a man is weird—like fuck, I have so many gay friends ya know, but _man_ you’re real fucked up hyung.” Bam Bam continued, all hand gestures and sluggish words. “You and Sungjin hyung both. You need to get away from each other. You amplify each other’s fucked-up-ness, and that’s not good, man.”

Dowoon let his hoobae’s too-friendly wording slip by. He gave the blond a small pat on the back, almost as a form of recognition for his unwarranted advice.

“I’ll talk to Jaebum hyung tomorrow. He said he’ll tell me about the lease and payments and all.” He promised. Somehow, the words left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Bam Bam seemed ecstatic. Jungkook looked like was about to nod off, and Taehyung resorted to concerning himself with Wonpil’s sleep talking.

Dowoon sighed.

 

~*~

 

Dowoon always hated summer.

Specifically, he hated being alone with his often dangerous thoughts, in a house full of memories he wished to forget with a snap of his fingers. He hated the heat, but hated having to turn on the air conditioner because he was mindful of the already expensive electricity bill. He hated lazing around and watching stupid shows on TV and hitting things with his drumsticks and waiting for the sky to turn dark and Sungjin to come home.

He particularly hated that last one, because it made him feel like a burden. He was here, waiting and doing nothing, while his roommate and former legal guardian worked his ass off to sustain the two of them.

So, to curb some of his growing guilt, Dowoon got a job as a busboy at the noodle shop Bam Bam worked in. He worked six hours a day, six days a week, and with each passing day he would go home feeling a little bit better about himself. He told Sungjin he’d give him his salary, to which he replied, “It’s yours, keep it”, as if Dowoon didn’t have a couple million won in his bank account from his uncle’s insurance company. All of which Sungjin hasn’t touched, either, because it was Dowoon’s and no one else’s. He’s sure his passbook was carefully hidden somewhere in Sungjin’s room, too.

 _God,_ someone had to help him understand how people like Sungjin existed. Anyone so selfless and kind would be exploited for sure.

And Dowoon was kind of exploiting him, wasn’t he? He wanted to be less of a money-sucking parasite, so he tried to become a money-making parasite instead. And no matter how burdensome he became, a small part of Dowoon would always latch onto Sungjin, because he needed him more than his feeble heart could ever comprehend.

Despite how much things have changed between them, Dowoon clung onto the hope of them being able to patch the rift in their relationship eventually. Yet he was beginning to lose motivation; he was starting to succumb to the black hole in his chest, to the poisonous words being whispered in his ears by the ghosts of his regrets, and now he wanted nothing more than to leave this place behind before he exploded into a thousand pieces.

Sungjin didn’t seem any better off, which was oddly comforting. Still, he was more distant than ever before, like a lone star burning fierce and bright on the edge of Dowoon’s sky, lightyears upon lightyears away.

Sungjin, who rapped two soft knocks on his bedroom door when he would usually just turn the knob and let himself in. Dowoon sprang from the bed, heart in his throat.

“Dowoon-ssi?”

Ah, that was another thing, too. Different suffix.

It was too cold for his liking.

“What?”

He didn’t mean for his tone to sound so harsh and irritated. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror hung near the door, where he shuffled around like the lost lamb he was. His newly-cut hair was tousled, and his clothes were wrinkled in places wrinkles shouldn’t be. He grimaced at the sight.

“The invitation just arrived.” He could hear the crisp rustling of paper, the squeaky sounds of bare feet against the waxed floorboards. “I have to message the organizer soon about the RSVP, and—“

Dowoon inched the door open, shyly peering through the crack. Sungjin looked like a deer caught in headlights.

“Hey.” He greeted. Dowoon gave a slight nod in return.

He could be cold, too.

“Um, Hyesung noona wants us to wear suits.”

Dowoon immediately shook his head. He was about to protest that it was _summer_ and a suit would be far too uncomfortable in the sweltering weather, but he stayed silent. Sungjin knew what he was thinking, anyway.

“It’ll be air-conditioned.” Sungjin fingered the hem of his white shirt. It was probably Dowoon’s, since it hung so loosely on his frame. “The chapel and the reception area too. So it’ll be fine, right?”

“Okay.”

That was the last word Dowoon uttered that day.

Sungjin sucked in air through his teeth.

“Clean your room, ‘kay?” He said lowly, as if he was talking to himself. Dowoon mouthed a soft _yes_ , twisting the doorknob absentmindedly.

Sungjin looked like he wanted to say something else. Dowoon waited, but he only offered a small smile before walking away.

 

~*~

 

In the past two months, Sunday brunches at _Yellow Bird_ became a thing. The restaurant was situated close to the orphanage, on the slight elevation wrapped around the walled border between Yongjin-gu and Minseok-gu. They would eat with Jae and Younghyun, who have recently become official roommates. (“It’s about time”, Dowoon commented when Jae first announced it, which earned him a joking glare from Younghyun.)

They sat at the booth near the feature wall, which was filled with wooden canaries and plastic hedges. The colors were muted, earthy hues and the entire space was rustic yet modern, which was why Dowoon was genuinely surprised when Younghyun said—rather proudly, might he add—that he was the one to design the restaurant’s interior.

Dowoon ordered the seafood pesto pasta, which he was determined to recreate at home. Sungjin seemed to love it as much as he did, but it’s not like Dowoon was planning to cook it for him. He’s not sure if that was practical, either, since Sungjin almost always ate out nowadays. On the rare occasion he would eat with Dowoon, their meals were spent in strong, suffocating silence. He was glad, then, to be able to dine with his hyung here. He always seemed more relaxed with his friends around, which only proved Dowoon’s fears to be true.

Sungjin chatted away about a particularly picky client that was endorsed to him by one of his former classmates (“Mr. Kim,” he said, but goodness knows how many Kims lived in Namseo). Younghyun listened intently, as if it was his first time hearing about it, while Jae seemed to be content with absentmindedly picking at his food.

“Is it no good?” Dowoon asked, setting his fork down. He sipped on his frappe, watching as Jae stabbed at a cherry tomato with his knife.

“It’s fine, I guess.” Jae puffed his cheeks, in that petulantly childish way of his. Younghyun stopped mid-sentence, pivoting his upper body towards Jae to shoot him a withering look.

“You’re always so picky with food.” He scolded for the nth time. Jae rolled his eyes, turning his attention to Sungjin and Dowoon. Or, more accurately, the ten inches of space between them, as if it held all the answers to his questions.

“I want a kitty.” Jae cocked his head to the side, his hair partially obscuring his eyes. “I thought you guys were gonna get one?”

“Sungjin hyung doesn—“

“Dowoon-ssi doesn’t w—“

They stopped once they realized that they spoke at the same time. Dowoon shut his mouth, averting his gaze as Sungjin cleared his throat.

“We want a puppy.” He said simply. Dowoon couldn’t fathom what expression he must have on his face; though, Jae looked rather amused as his eyes raked over the two of them. His psychologist tendencies were terrifyingly thorough.

“But the million dollar question is: _Are_ you gonna get a puppy?” Younghyun asked, spearing the discarded zucchini on Jae’s plate with his fork and bringing it to his mouth. Like it was a natural thing for a grown man to do.

Dowoon used to do that too, because Sungjin wasn’t fond of carrots and he absolutely loved them. Even now, he could spot small strips of orange on the edge of his hyung’s plate—but he wasn’t about to pull a Younghyun and attempt to eat them. He wasn’t even sure if it was appropriate in this setting.

“I was gonna get one.“ Sungjin seemed embarrassed. His cheeks were all rosy when Dowoon lifted his gaze. “But Dowoon-ssi said he was gonna work this summer so I thought we wouldn’t be able to take good care of it. I was right—we’ve both been pretty busy.”

For some reason, the statement made Dowoon’s eyes sting. He willed the tears away, sipping on his frappe again as Younghyun and Jae exchanged knowing glances with each other.

And yes, Dowoon was very much aware that they were planning something. From the start, it was quite obvious that these Sunday brunches were an elaborate excuse for a less formal therapy session. Simply put, it was a way for his hyung’s friends to monitor how they were doing, without actually asking them how they were doing. He could bet that Jae was jotting down notes in his head by now, eager to form a game plan with Younghyun on how to possibly reconcile them, as they had done countless times before.

Dowoon didn’t mind it much, and continued to go along with his hyungs because he knew that they meant well. It seemed that everyone, including his friends, was convinced that his relationship with Sungjin was dysfunctional at best and emotionally destructive at worst, and it needed to some urgent fixing. Dowoon couldn’t blame them—half of it was his fault, anyway.

Jae rubbed his hands together in that typical, cartoon-villainish way, a bright grin appearing on his face.

“I could dogsit. It’ll be a win-win situation, don’t you think?” He offered. His tone made Dowoon think that they might never be able to get the puppy back once Jae _babysits_ it.

“Pets aren’t allowed in our building.” Younghyun was quick to shoot down the eldest’s hopes and dreams. The latter’s sulky expression lifted Dowoon’s mood the tiniest bit.


	8. i’m shakin’ off the rust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter took me wayyyy too long to edit! (partly because i binge-watched all three seasons of boku no hero academia. i don’t regret it though)
> 
> btw, this story hit 600 reads recently and i’m kinda ecstatic about it. thank you to everyone who’s following this story despite my inconsistent writing and sporadic updates!

**_Younghyun_ **

Ever since freshmen orientation in college, Younghyun had surmised that Kim Siwon was a cheerful man. His movements were purposive, his demeanor casual; with his overflowing charisma, he always seemed like the kind of person anyone would gravitate towards. But in the past two months they’ve been working together, Younghyun noticed something about Siwon that irked him to no end: he was much too _enthusiastic_ with the renovations, for lack of a better term. If there was such a thing as being trigger-happy with interior decoration, Siwon was definitely doing it.

Younghyun had long resigned himself to his fate and pulled through with Siwon’s outrageous requests. After all, he was the most prestigious client they’ve had the pleasure of working with ever since their design company was founded, and he wanted to leave a good impression more than anything else. But Siwon’s eclectic, undefinable, and decidedly overwhelming aesthetic was much too chaotic for the stoic Sungjin, so Younghyun had to take over the project to save his best friend from his most feared occupational hazard.

He stepped onto the driveway of the Kim residence, gazing up at its brick walls. From Siwon’s explanation in their first meeting, the home was almost a hundred years old and had withstood many hardships. As a result, the heating and plumbing systems are largely untouched, and had to be revamped along with the general renovation of the house. Upon the request of Siwon’s mother, Younghyun had warned the construction company to refrain from making any changes to the exterior if possible, in order to preserve the house’s centennial façade.

Stepping through the large walnut doors, Younghyun greeted the construction manager and his workers with a wide grin and an enthusiastic tone. After a brief chat about the kitchen’s vaulted ceiling and stained glass windows, he made his way up the curved mahogany stairs to Siwon’s office.

The upstairs hallway, although largely untouched, needed some serious cleaning. The dusty carpet was appalling, and Younghyun almost considered taking off his shoes before entering Siwon’s pristine office. After a few knocks on the leaf-engraved door, he was greeted with the sight of a nervous Kim Siwon, whose gaze was trained on the binder in his hands. Beside him sat a young, chestnut-haired man in thick-rimmed glasses.

Younghyun approached the two, mindful not to step on the new woven carpet from Spain. His gaze met with Siwon’s, whose eyes were pleading. For _what,_ exactly, Younghyun had no idea.

“Oh, Brian-ssi! I’m glad you’re able to come at such short notice.” Siwon did seem relieved, to some extent. He laid his binder back down on the table, before proceeding to wring his fingers like he had no idea what to do with them.

 _It’s Younghyun-ssi,_ he mentally corrected.

Younghyun forced his grimace into a smile. Jae had managed to brainwash Siwon into calling him Brian, and he felt rather betrayed by his college classmate. Just a little, though.

“Good afternoon, Siwon-ssi.” Some semblance of annoyance seeped into his tone at the thought of Jae, but he hoped the unnecessarily bright smile on his face was enough compensation. “And good afternoon to you, too…?”

The other man didn’t seem to be very keen on making conversation. After some careful coaxing from Siwon (in which Younghyun tried not to laugh, because Siwon seemed like he was poking a wooden stick at a lion and was scared shitless, but he was a customer and Younghyun had to maintain proper decorum), he finally said his name.

“Kim Wonpil.” He forced out. Younghyun reached out to shake his hand. Wonpil did, albeit his grip was rather slack, as if he could care less about the introduction.

Younghyun spent the rest of his afternoon listing Siwon’s “revised” requests for the joint kitchen and dining area. He wanted black marble counters with gold fixings, floor-to-ceiling stained glass windows in the pantry (“Why _there,_ of all places?” Wonpil hissed out, to Younghyun’s surprise. Siwon shrugged, as if to say _Why not?_ ), and custom upholstered dining chairs for each of his friends and family members. Younghyun nodded along to his demands, wondering—not for the last time, it seemed—what the hell he had gotten himself into.

He was about to take his leave when Wonpil brought up the topic of the music room.

“Is it possible to finish it quickly?” His voice had this firm conviction to it, which was a large contrast to the forced replies and offhand comments Younghyun heard from him so far.

“It will take two weeks at most to finish laying down the hardwood floors and painting the walls in your preferred color.” Younghyun closed his laptop with some finality. “Although, if you are planning to use it immediately after it‘s finished, the surroundings might prove to be too loud with the ongoing construction downstairs. And some finishes, like the lights, might take some time—“

“Alright, I get it.”

Younghyun wasn’t even bothered that Wonpil cut him off. He sounded so defeated, his earlier conviction already thrown out the window. Siwon didn’t seem very enthusiastic, either. He kept silent, but the concern in his eyes was obvious.

And Younghyun, a person who was very unwilling to meddle in other people’s business, decided to excuse himself. There was something very off and very awkward about Siwon’s relationship with Wonpil, who Younghyun had only assumed he was related to because the former didn’t introduce them properly—and frankly, Wonpil didn’t seem too intent on divulging their relationship, either. His educated guess was that they were siblings with a rocky relationship, since Siwon did mention having a younger brother around their second year of college, but only in the form of a passing comment.

Younghyun couldn’t pretend like he cared about their issues all that much, since it had nothing to do with him. As long as Siwon paid him for his impeccable work, then he had no further qualms and questions regarding Kim Wonpil. He had more pressing matters to attend to, anyway.

 

~*~

 

Kang Younghyun wasn’t into the whole drinking-with-coworkers thing.

He didn’t buy into the purported camaraderie of it; he simply didn’t see the point in getting shit-faced drunk in front of a person who was, essentially, your _rival,_ as that would only serve as a catalyst for spewing out incoherent nonsense that may or may not be used as a form of blackmail against you later on. And in an environment as cutthroat and competitive as _Olympia Interiors,_ it was every man for himself—giving any sort of advantage to your rival was the worst form of corporate suicide, and Younghyun shuddered to even think about it.

Yet, Park Sungjin seemed to either be playing the game too well, or completely missing the memo.

He was a sunbae in a sense, as he started working in the company two months before Younghyun even attempted to apply (and was promptly accepted, of course). Despite the fifty-five days of advantage he had over Younghyun, Sungjin acted as if he knew nothing about the politics of their workplace. It was troubling—or rather, troublesome—to a person like Younghyun, who was all about keeping his image speck-free.

“How did you know you were gay?”

Seeing how Sungjin could ask such a probing question with a straight face and an unwavering gaze, he seemed to have no knowledge about homosexuality—nor any form of social skill, for that matter.

“I’m bisexual.” He clarified, because those two were vastly different. Sungjin shrugged, like he didn’t know, nor did he care. He exuded the exact form of heteronormative ignorance that he so loathed, but Younghyun was too shocked at his audacity to feel offended.

“I’ve kinda known for a while.” Sungjin explained, his voice almost lost in the rambunctiousness of the group of police officers seated behind them. “It’s pretty easy to figure out. I mean, the way you look at our boss somet—“

 _Shit,_ who would have thought that the stoic Park Sungjin was actually observant? This is ridiculous.

“Aish, I get it! Shut up!” His face was burning. His cheeks were probably as red as his hair, or even more so. He heard someone erupt in loud, almost comedic laughter, and was promptly shushed.

“What do you want from me?” Younghyun cracked his knuckles, a sign that this was especially anxiety-inducing for him. Not that Sungjin would know, of course, because no one knew about his nervous tendencies.

“I want to know how you found out.” Sungjin repeated, without any hint of hesitation whatsoever.

Younghyun was almost impressed—except, this was literally the first time they’ve had drinks together (the others presumably left early to escape Sungjin’s awkwardness and his own fakeness; he couldn’t really blame them), and was already pulling out the big guns. His feelings were a mix of intimidation and awe.

“I guess I’ve always just known.” He began, uncertainty tainting his tone. Sungjin seemed far too eager, like a child being lured in with the promise of candy. Despite Younghyun’s usual caution, he had a hard time believing that this information was going to be used for blackmail—he wasn’t even sure if Sungjin was capable of doing such a thing.

“You can never tell when these things start, you know. It’s hard to pinpoint an exact beginning.”

Sungjin dropped his gaze to the glass in his hand, half-filled with amber liquor. Younghyun had a distinct feeling that his words went over his head.

“It’s instinctive, then?” He asked, as if he was having trouble digesting Younghyun’s words.

The red-haired man took a sip of his cocktail, relishing the way it burned down his throat. He needed to be more intoxicated if he wanted to talk about this topic any further—or if he wanted to keep conversing with Park Sungjin, for that matter.

“Yes. It’s like…” God, how could he explain this to someone who was all but a clueless, conservative dork in his eyes? “When you’re choosing color palettes or furniture pieces based on your preferences, you always end up picking similar-looking things, right?”

Sungjin nodded along to his words. Younghyun celebrated his short-lived victory with a satisfied grin.

But, wait. _Why_ was he even exerting so much effort on this?

Whatever the reason may be, it definitely had nothing to do with the way Sungjin stared at him, so captivated by his every word—nor the way the older man hunched forward in his eagerness to listen. It most definitely did not feed his already gigantic ego.

“Well, when you’re gay, you always seem to drift towards those of the same sex. You find them more attractive overall, because that’s your sexual preference.” Younghyun paused, long enough for his words to sink in. He hoped it did; Sungjin looked more clueless by the second. “Your body and mind have their own ways of telling you. So I guess, that answers your question—you’ll just know.”

“You’ll just know.” Sungjin parroted. Younghyun nodded, unsure of whether or not his coworker fully understood everything he said. What he was certain of, however, was that Sungjin was trying to wrap his head around the concept of homosexuality despite his closed-minded nature. For what cause, Younghyun didn’t know—but for Sungjin to do something so foreign and out-of-character, it must be something near and dear to him.

 

~*~

 

**_Wonpil_ **

Park Jinyoung was a man with the wit, charm, and intelligence that befitted his stature. Perfect etiquette, dashing looks—everything about him was bright and pleasant and addictive, and that alone was enough to make him popular.

Wonpil didn’t want to admit it, but he knew that even with their similar breeding and accrued wealth, Jinyoung was on a completely different level from him. It was readily apparent in the way he handled situations in times of crisis; where Wonpil would run, Jinyoung would fight. His brevity always seemed bereft of any hesitation.

In the aftermath of the scandal that wounded their families’ prides and caused a big stir in the local media, Jinyoung stood his ground. He handled the public backlash in a calm, collected manner, as if he had already planned for all of it before it even happened. On the other hand, Wonpil was quick to dive under the cover of his father’s influence. It softened the blow at the price of his own freedom; but even then, the consequences and restrictions he had to face were nothing compared to Jinyoung’s.

Wonpil could only emulate his (former) lover’s resilience, could only stare in awe of his bravery in the face of social ostracism. He was less convicted to strive for the quiet, peaceful life that Jinyoung fought tooth-and-nail for, and was far less satisfied with the state of his life than the other man. He was less willing to make any hasty decisions or drastic changes—in that way, Wonpil would always be behind Jinyoung.

Even as he sat hunched over his thick textbooks and smattering of papers, Jinyoung looked ready to conquer the world. Wonpil eyed the neglected glasses and plates on the other end of the round table, before his eyes settled on the back of Jinyoung’s neck. Smooth and pale, just as he remembered it.

“Knock knock.” He said, without doing any actual knocking. Jinyoung jumped, his brows creased at the sudden intrusion.

Wonpil raised his arms in surrender, keys clinking in his hand, and Jinyoung released a soft sigh.

“You should’ve called.” He chided, although he didn’t seem all that upset to have Wonpil barging into his apartment. They both have done worse things to keep their relationship a secret.

Wonpil shut the door behind him, stepping into the small studio apartment with almost a hint of apprehension. He set the keys on the end table by the entryway.

After meeting up at the library that one time, they inevitably sought each other’s company. There was something magnetic between them, an attraction so intense that Wonpil couldn’t even attempt to describe it with any word in his vocabulary. He just hoped that Jinyoung felt it too.

“Sorry.” Wonpil laid his hands on the other man’s toned shoulders, gently squeezing at the knotted muscles with his fingers. “Tired?”

“Mhmm.” Jinyoung hummed, leaning into his touch. “Ugh, why did I have to fail calc? I hate it so much.”

“Stop hating it, then.” Wonpil said. Perhaps his words made it seem like he was better at dealing with things he felt strongly towards, but they both knew otherwise. “It’s easier to study when you’re focused on understanding the lessons instead of just getting a passing grade.”

“It’s easier to study with you.” Jinyoung rescinded. Wonpil kneaded into the small divet between his shoulder blades, causing the other man to emit a low groan.

_Shit._

He knew he had to stop this soon—not only the impromptu massage, but also their frequent visits and way-too-carefree conversations. There was a nagging voice in the back of his mind that kept reminding him that they can’t afford to be so nonchalant in the first place.

And yet, his hands kept moving on their own. He leaned into the chair a bit more, towards the familiar, comforting heat of Jinyoung’s toned body. If time stopped moving at this very moment, Wonpil would be eternally grateful.

Jinyoung continued to complain, his words slowly draining him of his conviction with each passing minute. Wonpil diligently worked on the stiff knots in his back, humming along to his words, trying to contain the glowing embers of lust that threatened to burst from his chest.

Jinyoung must be feeling it too. He _has_ to. Wonpil loathed to think that he was the only one suffering like this.

“Lie down so I can do it better.” Wonpil whispered, letting his breath tickle Jinyoung’s ear.

It was the most daring invitation he could muster. The other man responded in kind, his muscles tensing as he slowly exhaled. Wonpil grinned to himself, trailing his fingertips along Jinyoung’s shoulder blades, feeling his own chest pulsate with both fear and excitement.

He pushed the table away with his hip, before turning to straddle Jinyoung’s lap in one swift motion. He faintly heard something clatter to the floor, but his eyes were too focused on Jinyoung’s heavy gaze and flushed ears and parted lips to care about anything else.

Jinyoung laid two firm hands on his waist, pulling him closer until their faces were inches apart and their groins were pressed together. Wonpil chuckled, rolling his hips as Jinyoung’s hands caressed his sides.

“I want you.” He whispered, his words filled with lust and greed and everything in between. Jinyoung’s sharp inhale only fed the fire that grew within him. He squeezed Wonpil’s butt, causing him to yelp in surprise.

“Me too, Pillie.” Jinyoung breathed out, lips stretching into a sly grin. In the dimming light of the setting sun, he looked like the angel Wonpil always believed him to be.

His hand caressed Wonpil’s nape, pulling him in for a kiss like it was the most natural next step. And when he sensed Jinyoung falter, when he noticed the speck of uncertainty in his eyes, Wonpil fisted his shirt collar and yanked it until their lips finally met.

Maybe some part of him still yearned to sweep Jinyoung off his feet and take him to a place where no controlling parents could reach them, where no bystanders could judge them. A place where they could be together, be happy, be _free._

But the gravity of their situation dashed his hopes almost as soon as they had slipped into his mind.

Wonpil doubted that he could ever stand beside Jinyoung again. And why would he even want to be anywhere else when Jinyoung’s back was already an incredible sight to behold?

 _This is where I belong,_ he told himself, fingers curling into Jinyoung’s midnight strands. _This is where I‘ve always wanted to be._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’m planning to write a bnha x kpop crossover soon. but i need to finish this story first or else i never will (true story)
> 
> ALSO, update intervals will be longer this coming august because i have to study for a standardized test. no biggie tho, updates won’t take any longer than six to seven days (plus we’re kind of nearing the end already hehe *wink*)


	9. stop and stare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> before reading this chapter, take a deep breath as i warn you of possible triggers:
> 
> there’s semi-detailed descriptions/mentions of anxiety attacks and suicide attempts in this chapter. please be generally advised.

**_Sungjin_ **

_ “Yeah, um, you left your wallet.” _

Sungjin ran a hand through his hair, lightly massaging his scalp in the process. It still felt raw from the hair coloring session he had last week, but the pain was faint and not at all unbearable.

“Sorry, hyung.”  _ For having a nervous breakdown, _ he wanted to say, but he swallowed down the urge. Jae didn’t seem like he was about to bring it up, anyways. “I’ll come by your place tonight. I just needed to… you know…”

_ “Dude, like, I  _ totally  _ understand.”  _ The blond sounded nervous. Sungjin heard him shifting, and almost smiled.

Jae was really keen on helping him overcome his trials and tribulations. Despite the sheer volume of his voice and his cynical outlook on life, he had a lot of kindness in his heart, and Sungjin was grateful to be on the receiving end of it once again.

_ “I understand you’re going through a lot. You probably don’t feel like you’ve made any progress at all, ever since the whole… suicide attempt thing two years ago.” _

Sungjin rolled up the sleeves of his sweater, balancing the phone between his ear and shoulder. He didn’t know what else to say; he definitely shared his hyung’s sentiments, and took his diagnosis seriously despite how underwhelming it may be to anyone else. But the words  _ anxiety disorder  _ and  _ depression _ strewn in the same sentence left a bitter taste in Sungjin’s mouth, and his fragile mind couldn’t take any more.

_ “Sungjin-ah… I know you might not want to hear these words right now. You might not even take me seriously. But please, let yourself be loved.” _

Ah, those words again.

Sungjin blinked as his eyes began to sting for what felt like the hundredth time today. When will he ever stop crying?

“Dowoon deserves better.” He croaked out, his throat tight and his stomach in knots. He could picture Jae violently shaking his head, his bleached strands whipping around as he tried to prove his point.

_ “I know you care for him, but you don’t get to say what’s good for him and what’s not. It’s  _ his  _ life to live, not yours.” _

“I know that, but...”  _ I can’t accept it. I can’t help myself. _

His voice cracked, but he kept speaking. “Hyung, he can do better than me.”

Dowoon could definitely find himself a woman—or a man—who was unconditionally loving and mentally stable and successful in their career. Everything Sungjin didn’t have, someone else might.

He was sobbing, now, his already swollen eyes throbbing. He had no more tears to shed, but the pain was still there. He doubted it would ever go away.

“I’m stuck in a self-perpetuating cycle of hate and I can’t stop it. I’m sick in the head. I’m sick of feeling like this. I—“ He choked, chest constricting from the force of it. He grabbed the edge of the dining table to steady himself as his vision darkened.

He faintly heard something fall to the floor. His head was heavy and his hearing was garbled, like he was underwater.

He dragged himself into one of the dining chairs, slowly leaning down to pick up his phone. The tempered glass was cracked at one of the edges, sending web-like lines across the expanse of it. Sungjin brought it up to his ear with a weak, trembling hand.

_ “—shit, if you don’t answer within the next five seconds I’m gonna steal Brian’s car and drive over there—“ _

“Hyung…” He forced out. His throat felt like sandpaper. “‘m fine. Just a little dizzy.”

He heard Jae gasp and yell  _ “Thank  _ god  _ you’re okay!” _

He heard the other man heave a big sigh. Sungjin didn’t want to make him worry anymore.

_“_ God. _Why do you—ugh, jesus—“_ He could hear footsteps and faint sniffles. _“You’re amazing, okay. You’re literally the sweetest, kindest person I know. But even if you think Dowoon should go get married and have a family of his own, or even settle down with anyone_ but _you, the fact remains—that he loves you_ _and you love him._ _That’s the only thing that should matter.”_

Sungjin wished he had the capacity to believe his hyung’s words. He slumped over the table, heaving a big sigh of his own.

“I know.” He said, his words sounding empty even to his own ears.

 

~*~

 

Lately, he always dreamt of Dowoon.

It always started off pleasantly, like a rom-com or a shoujo anime, always depicting Sungjin in a utopian setting with the young male. And in the end, like any classic horror film, it always took a macabre turn.

Last night, the walls of the small bowling alley began dripping with a black, putrid liquid. It seeped into the machines, coating the pins and the mounted screens, puddling around Sungjin’s slippered feet. He turned to Dowoon, petrified, only to see the other man’s face streaked with bloody tears.

Sungjin awoke to a loud bang. He sat up too quickly; his head spun, eyes searching wildly in the darkness for the source of the sound. The digital clock above his closet read 03:15.

He dragged a sweaty hand over his face, the sound of loud throbbing in his ears.

He wanted to see if Dowoon was okay. Maybe these dreams were a premonition, a dark omen of some sort—maybe Dowoon was ill, or in danger, or—

Or playing his drums at three in the morning. Sungjin strained his ears for that distinctive  _ tap tap tap _ , and immediately relaxed upon hearing it.

He laid back down onto his bed, shifting until his spine was flat against the mattress. He wished he could go and check on the younger man, to assess both his physical and emotional states, but the former would be too awkward and the latter nearly impossible.

This was Sungjin’s fault. He was well aware that he was the root cause of it all—Jae’s sharp comments and Younghyun’s cautious coaxing were nothing compared to the immense hate he had for himself and his actions, all pooling into his gut like the gasoline-like liquid in his dreams. If only he had attempted to understand Dowoon’s feelings better instead of running away in fear, then maybe the rift between them wouldn’t be the way it is now—a deep, dark depth filled with unspoken words and hidden feelings. Sungjin wanted to take the plunge, but—

It was always  _ but but but _ with him. He always had a reason for his inactions; if third-guessing was a thing, he would probably be doing it to himself.

But whatever happens in the future, Sungjin wanted Dowoon to be happy—even if  _ happy _ meant finding someone kind and big-hearted and fearless to settle down and start a new life with. Sungjin would never want to get in the way of that. No, he loved Dowoon too much to do that.

He loved Dowoon so much that he wanted to give him the moon and the stars. He loved Dowoon so much that if he asked Sungjin for his heart, he would rip his chest open and hand it to him, bloody and warm and beating still. He loved Dowoon so much that the thought of not being able to stay beside him anymore greatly perturbed him. He loved Dowoon so much more than he loved himself, and simply seeing his face every single day was enough. He didn’t need to be loved back.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

 

~*~

 

In the past week, Sungjin’s thoughts have been plagued with a colossal urge to cry.

It further hindered his already slow progress with his ongoing projects, and made him think twice about his skills as an interior designer. Younghyun has been nothing but kind to him, but it’s plain to see how taxing it was for his partner to run everything by himself.

Sungjin just wanted—or, at this point,  _ needed _ —to release the multitude of feelings bottled up in his chest, all the anger and the guilt and the hurt and the sadness, but a large part of him felt like he didn’t deserve to be relieved of his burdens. That he needed a constant, painful reminder of what he’s  _ doing  _ to Dowoon, until everything boils over someday soon.

Until then, he carved a smile on his face every single day. It was tiring, but if it helped reassure the people around him, who was he to complain?

Yet one day, Jaebum let it slip that he had a new tenant moving into his apartment, where they lived for a few months in the past. Sungjin had wandered into Dowoon’s room the night before, only to find it almost empty. He managed to put two and two together, and the realization hit him harder than anything ever could. On that day, he stopped smiling.

Instead of carving a smile on his face, he carved it into his skin. The blood that spilled from every wound was filled with the tears he longed to shed.

He remembered seeing similar scars on Dowoon’s body; smooth, pale lines that ran down his biceps and torso in haphazard patterns. His _battle scars,_ as he called them, were the reason why Dowoon wore loose-fitting clothes and never let anyone but Sungjin see him shirtless. He fought with severe depression for such a long time, and just when Jae had happily given them the all-clear, Sungjin went and messed everything up.

Dowoon was going to leave him.

 

~*~

 

Jaebum was furious.

His hands shook, tremors coursing through his body. Sungjin barely had any time to formulate his thoughts, when the black-haired man hissed out words that proceeded to petrify him.

“Don’t you  _ dare  _ tell me this was an accident.”

Sungjin gulped, his heart hammering along to the throbbing pain. His fingers tightened around the makeshift bandage around his midsection, hot blood oozing into his palms. Even breathing was hard for him—he must have jabbed the blade into his stomach, like he wanted, but—

The sorrow he felt stung a whole lot more.

Tears streaked down Jaebum’s face. He tried to contain his sobs, gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. Sungjin wondered if he was crying because he pitied him, or because he was actually  _ scared _ of losing him.

“Why would you do it  _ there? _ Fucking dumbass.” Jaebum hiccuped. He blinked rapidly, as if it would make his tears go away. “That’s where we met. If you died there, shit, I would’ve—“

“Jumped too?” Sungjin murmured, weakly, his face twisting in pain from the effort of speaking.

“ _ Shit.  _ You’re better than this, Sungjin.” Jaebum’s face scrunched up. Sungjin could do nothing but watch him, and hum in affirmation. “I know you feel terrible—stop trying to take it all by yourself. Rely on me more, stupid idiot.”

He swerved the car into a different lane. The small Patrick Star figurine on the dashboard toppled over, rolling around the surface as they neared the hospital.

God. He had to get new car seats now, since he doubted the blood would come off with just a car wash.

Sungjin leaned back into his seat as the world darkened beyond comprehension.

 

~*~

 

The first time Sungjin went clothes shopping with Dowoon was on the day he got accepted in Busan Arts College. Sungjin had been lending him his clothes before then, since they were still relatively the same size. Dowoon only continued to grow since they started living together; he gained a couple of centimeters and lots of kilos, which earned him appreciative stares every time they went to a public place together. And Sungjin, for better or for worse, felt proud of himself.

Today, he managed to convince Dowoon to come with him to the tailor’s shop. Their measurements had been taken three weeks ago, after Hyesung took it upon herself to drag the two men to the shop one lazy Saturday afternoon. After a preliminary fitting to determine if the suits needed further adjustments, Sungjin was informed that they were finally done and ready to be picked up.

He had to park the car in the designated area two blocks away, and Dowoon didn’t seem very eager to walk around in the heat. He hated having his shirt stick to his body—or just sweat, in general.

Sungjin offered his umbrella as they exited the car. He hated the heat, too, but he didn’t get as red as Dowoon does from the sun’s harsh rays.

“Use it. You might get sunburn.”

An unnamed emotion crossed the younger man’s face. He grabbed Sungjin’s arm, twisting until his palm faced upwards. The yellow umbrella fell onto the concrete.

“Dowoon, what…” He trailed off as he realized what was going on. He wouldn’t be able to get out of his grip, even if he wanted to, and it scared Sungjin enough to make him go into panic mode.

“What’s this?” Dowoon’s brows were knitted together in worry. His rough thumb smoothed over a fresh scar on Sungjin’s inner bicep, dangerously close to his axillary vein. He shivered from the touch.

“A cut.” Sungjin replied, pulling at his arm to test Dowoon’s strength. As expected, his fingers curled tighter around him.

_ Fuck fuck fuck _

Dowoon’s dark eyes glistened with tears. His jaw noticeably trembled as he spoke.

“Hyung, why?”

“Just nicked myself a bit. It’s fine, accidents happen, right?” He brought up his free hand to pat Dowoon’s shoulder. The other man jumped in surprise, and Sungjin immediately pulled away.

His cheeks burned.

He muttered a swift apology, and Dowoon shook his head, pursing his plump lips into a thin line.

“It’s not fine.” Dowoon grit his teeth.

Sungjin wrenched his arm free from his grip, and Dowoon let him. He picked up the umbrella and shoved it into Dowoon’s chest.

“It’s  _ fine _ .” Sungjin hissed, and that was that.

The walk to the tailor’s shop was uneventful. Since it was the weekend, the streets—as well as the numerous restaurants, cafés and shops that lined it—were packed with people. They passed by a  _ Baskin and Robbins,  _ and Sungjin’s sweet tooth practically begged him for some nice, cold ice cream.

Dowoon trailed closely behind him, gripping the unopened umbrella in his hand. He occasionally brushed his knuckles against Sungjin’s back, as if he wanted to grab his shirt and drag his hyung someplace else, but no such thing happened.

They arrived at the shop soon enough. One of the assistants immediately welcomed them, and after a small chat that left Sungjin feeling more uncomfortable than anything else, they were led to one of the fitting rooms in the back. Dowoon seated himself on the plush leather armchair, and Sungjin resorted to leaning against the white wall as they waited for the requested garments.

Sungjin tried his suit on first. He stepped out of the partition, observing the garment in every possible angle.

“Is it okay? Do I look fat?” He joked, byt Dowoon didn’t seem too amused. Sungjin didn’t expect to be humored, anyway—not after what happened earlier.

Dowoon tried on his suit soon after. It was in a pinstriped pattern, which made him look taller than he already was. Sungjin automatically lessened the space between them, promptly forgetting about the idiotic mistakes he committed that made it bigger than it ever had to be.

“What a dashing young man.” He commented, a sly smile forming on his lips.

He continued examining the garment, turning Dowoon by the shoulders to get a better look at it from different angles. When he reached in to button his cuffs, Dowoon snaked an arm around his waist. Before Sungjin could protest, the younger man pressed his lips upon his.

Sungjin immediately stiffened as Dowoon pried his mouth open with his tongue. He pressed his hands on Dowoon’s chest as he began nibbling on his bottom lip, as Sungjin’s heart threatened to burst from his ribcage, but he couldn’t gather enough strength to push him away.

This was bad. He knew it was, but he couldn’t help but want to melt in Dowoon’s arms and stay there for all eternity. He couldn’t help but induldge even the slightest bit, because this is what the deepest recesses of his heart longed for.

The kiss got deeper, more fervent. Dowoon’s knuckles brushed against his cheek, before he began carressing it with gentle strokes. Sungjin reached up to entangle his fingers into the Dowoon’s hair. He lightly tugged on the shorter strands by his nape, and a low, rumbling groan escaped the younger man’s throat.

Sungjin lost track of time after that. He was only shaken out of his reverie when he heard a few sharp raps on the door and the assistant’s concerned voice. Only then did he garner enough courage to break the kiss—even then, Dowoon kept him in his arms, as if he was afraid that Sungjin would leave once he lets go.

“Hyung, I know we haven’t gotten along well lately, but...” Dowoon’s lips were red and swollen and slick with saliva. Sungjin would have laughed at him if he wasn’t in the exact same condition. “I-if there’s anything I can help you with, whatever it may be, please tell me.

“I‘m fine, Dowoonie. Really.” Sungjin had gotten better at lying. He’s gotten used to slipping into this façade of his, when in reality he wanted nothing more than to drop to his knees and beg Dowoon to never leave him. “Let’s pay for this then leave, yeah? I wanna get some ice cream.”

A single tear trailed down Dowoon’s cheek, and Sungjin moved to wipe it away. He almost thought he would be rejected, but the younger man leaned into his touch as if he’s been longing for it all this time.

“Don’t lie to me, hyung.” Dowoon pleaded. He cupped Sungjin’s hand, nuzzling into it, muttering such sweet yet poisonous words. “You don’t have to tell me everything, but please stop hurting yourself. What would I do if I lost you?”

Sungjin’s breath hitched, his chest constricting from the weight of his emotions.

“I’m—“  _ not lying. _

He couldn’t bring himself to say it. He dug his nails into his arm, clawing on his skin as Dowoon nuzzled into his neck.

“I’m not the one who’s leaving. Right, Dowoonie?” Sungjin said, his voice barely above a whisper. His legs felt like jelly—soon, he would have to rely on Dowoon to keep him upright. “You’re the one who’s been lying to me. You’re sick of me, aren’t you? Why didn’t you tell me earlier? I could’ve done something. I could’ve changed. I would have done  _ anything _ for you.“

“You’re wrong, hyung.” Dowoon was desperate, distraught. Sungjin was even more so. “I don’t—I never thought of it like th—“

“SHUT UP!” His voice filled the room, bouncing around the enclosed space. Hot tears spilled onto his cheeks, and Sungjin wiped at them furiously. “Why do you keep making me feel like this? Have I just been holding you back this whole time?”

His knees gave out. Sungjin curled into himself as sobs began to wrack his frame, and Dowoon pulled him against his chest. He could feel the man’s heart beating as rapidly as his, could feel his soothing warmth embracing him.

“I feel so terrible when I’m with you, Dowoonie...” Sungjin sobbed, clawing at his chest as if it would alleviate the great pain he felt. “I always think you’d be happy without me, that it doesn’t matter if I’m beside you or not because your world won’t ever stop turning. But when I met you, my world began revolving around you and only you. I don’t know how I’m supposed to just sit and watch you leave me. I  _ can’t _ .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp. sungjin cried so much this whole chapter, and it was actually pretty jarring to write


	10. i think i’m moving but i go nowhere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eep, sorry this chapter took so long. i’ve been busy with various things and just didn’t have enough time to write the last few scenes. but here it is, and i hope y’all enjoy this chapter!

**_Dowoon_ **

_ August 2009 _

Lately, Dowoon found himself frequenting the  _ Family Mart _ that was two bus stops away from his house.

After each school day, he would treat himself to a bottle of juice and a melon bun. He would always stare at the cashier’s face, staring him down as he checked out his items. Counting the number of times the cashier would gulp was a new game he made up. It was fun.

He would sit at one of the tables outside and proceed to scarf down his food. It was never enough for a growing boy like him—after all, he could eat five packs of ramen in one sitting, but he couldn't afford it without starving himself for three whole days. The meager allowance his uncle leaves on the dining table every morning was never enough for anything more than bus fare and a light snack (or two cans of juice, depending on how thirsty he was that day). Though, the college kids he used to hang out with would sometimes buy him tteokbeoki or jjajangmyeon if he did what they asked of him. And for the first few months of the year, that was enough for Dowoon to avoid complete starvation.

But then, one of his hyungs got sent to jail. He thought it would be too troublesome to continue associating with their group, so he started to avoid them. Even so, he didn’t get dizzy spells and stomach aches as often as he did when he was younger—and that was probably because of Park Sungjin.

He would arrive at exactly 4:27, getting off the blue line bus in front of the store. His short black hair would be windblown, his cheeks a light shade of red from the summer heat. He would speed-walk across the street—on the crosswalk, of course—and greet Dowoon with an insufferable look and a  _ “You’re here again?” _ before heading inside.

He always had that irritated look whenever he went to the front of the store to sweep. He would yell at Dowoon to stop humming, or to throw his trash into the proper bins, before stomping back inside. Dowoon found it amusing; he did his homework on the table nearest to the cashier so he could annoy Sungjin even more. Even though they were separated by a wall of glass, he could practically see the other boy seething as if they sat across from each other.

After doing his homework, he would shove his second-hand textbooks back into his bag, and decide on what he’s going to do until midnight. A lot of customers come in at around 6PM, most of them seemingly in their mid-twenties. They all looked at Dowoon oddly, or suspiciously, or just never looked his way at all. He couldn’t really blame them, since he hated how he looked as well. He was a short, pitiful stick figure with threadbare clothes and disheveled hair. Bruises and cuts littered his body, earned from the occasional fight with other gangs or beatings from his uncle. But the horizontal ones on his biceps—the ones barely concealed by the sleeves of his uniform—were self-inflicted. He must be such a sorry sight to see.

He would leave soon after the sun sets, because even little children know that all the bad things come out at night. Dowoon has witnessed them all by now, and maybe even ate dinner with a few of them, to the point where he could label which one was a robber and which was a drug dealer (and which one was both) without even batting an eye.

But tonight, he had nothing he wanted to do. He was tired of passing time at the park, where a bunch of small-time gangsters would come and go as they pleased. He hated the stares he got in the public library, too, and he wasn’t in the mood to steal money for a few hours at a PC bang.

So Dowoon stayed there, flipping through his science textbook as the hours passed. He had to angle the book properly to get a good amount of light, but he didn’t mind it much. The words on the page distracted him from the sounds of the world around him: people’s footsteps, car horns, the whooshing of air as vehicles passed by, Sungjin settling into the seat beside him, tapping his fingers on the table to get his attention—

“Oi. Are you ignoring me?”

Sungjin’s gruff voice pulled him out of his reverie. Dowoon briefly wondered if he still held a grudge over what he did last month, which he didn’t quite get—he ended up returning the wallet, anyway. After getting the three-thousand won, of course.

“No.” He said, which was the truth. Somehow, Sungjin looked even more exasperated.

“ _ Tch.  _ Whatever.” Sungjin tapped his fingers on the table again, his long nails making clicking sounds against the hard plastic. “It’s late. Leave.”

Dowoon squinted at the general direction of the wall clock. 11:23 PM.

“Later.” Dowoon murmured, turning back to his book. He didn’t ignore Sungjin on purpose, even though it seemed to be one of his pet peeves and Dowoon had a thing for pissing him off. He just wanted to finish reading about Neils Bohr, because he was getting awfully into it now, but—

Sungjin yanked the book away from him. He looked annoyed. Dowoon was getting annoyed now, too.

“It’s late. Go home already.” He repeated, as if Dowoon had to be reminded that it was almost midnight and there were barely any cars and people around at this hour. He could see it for himself, but Sungjin didn’t care about that. If Dowoon had to guess, he’d say Sungjin probably saw him as some idiot or nuisance—but it was most likely the latter.

He sighed.

“I don’t have a home.” He said, voice monotone.  He meant it as a joke (with an underlying hint of truth to it), but Sungjin’s reaction made his insides squirm. His features softened, but it wasn’t anything like those pitiful gazes Dowoon often received from his teachers. It was more like…  _ empathy, _ or something.

He reached for his textbook, realizing that one of the pages had a torn corner. Sungjin didn’t put up much resistance. The high-schooler pulled up his other hand, previously hidden under the table, and placed a plastic bag on top of Dowoon’s book.

“I don’t have a home, either.” Sungjin rested his chin on his hand. His eyes were trained on Dowoon, and the unwarranted attention made his jaw tremble.

_ Fuck. Calm down. _

What’s up with that answer, anyway? Was he mocking Dowoon? Or just playing along, thinking it was a joke?

Or... was he being sincere as well?

Dowoon rummaged through the plastic bag, throwing away all the remaining dregs of shame he had. Three packets of ramen, some crackers, and two cans of coffee. Dowoon must have done something reflexively, like his lips turning up into a grin or his eyes betraying his glee, because Sungjin was soon smiling and it overwhelmed him. It was like staring into the sun, like his teeth were made of super bright light bulbs, and it was enough to drown out the fluorescent signs and street lights all around them. He decided that he liked Sungjin’s smile.

“Do you have a drunkard uncle, too?” The words flew out of his mouth, leaving a bitter aftertaste. He absolutely hated talking about that good-for-nothing man.

Sungjin shrugged, resuming his menial tapping on the table.

“I have an evil mom.” He whispered, as if it was a secret he had never shared with anyone but Dowoon. It was followed by a smile that had a tinge of sadness to it.

“Do you have siblings?”

“A noona, yeah. You?”

Dowoon shrugged. He placed his arm on the table, imitating Sungjin’s pose.

“I dunno.” He paused, long enough to watch Sungjin scoot his seat a little closer towards him. “I probably have half-siblings, maybe a hyung or a noona too.”  _ I’ll never know because I don’t even know who my dad is,  _ but he kept that last part to himself. Sungjin didn’t need to hear the story of his life, anyway.

He tilted his head to the side, muttering a soft  _ huh  _ in the process.

“I can be your hyung, if you want.”

It sounded like a proposition. Dowoon must be looking at him oddly—the tips of Sungjin’s ears reddened, his face basking in an ethereal glow from the store’s lights.

“I mean, you can call me hyung, but only if you want to.” He babbled on, spouting out excuses one after the other. Dowoon wanted to interrupt him, to tell him that it was okay and that he was happy about what he said, but he couldn’t trust himself to speak.

So he gave one curt nod, which Sungjin initially seemed confused by until understanding dawned on his face. Dowoon reached for his thigh under the table, pinching himself lightly to see if this was a dream or not. He felt over the moon, and if this  _ was  _ just a dream then he’d be pretty disappointed.

“Okay, Sungjin hyung.”

 

_ ~ _

 

_ January 2010 _

“Happy birthday, hyung.”

Dowoon could only wish that he had a gift to accompany his greeting. He glanced at Sungjin, twiddling with his thumbs.

His hyung didn’t seem to care for his nervousness, nor his lack of a present. He cradled a red box on his lap, looking so out of place in a rickety fast food booth with his neat appearance and jubilant demeanor. Heck, he looked like an alien beside Dowoon, who had pulled on whatever clean clothes he could find this morning in his rush to get to their meeting place on time.

“Thanks.” Sungjin turned to him, reaching up to rest a gentle hand on his shoulder. Dowoon was getting bigger now, thanks to a rather unwelcome growth spurt. He was almost the same height as his hyung, and his shoulders have broadened to the point where he hunched into himself so he didn’t feel so huge. He looked like skin and bones, still, so Sungjin made it his mission to feed him whenever he could. He gained a few kilos over the last few months (especially last Christmas, when he ate at a barbecue place with Sungjin for the first time in his life and probably downed about two cows worth of beef) but he wasn’t certain if the added weight was due to hormonal growth or Sungjin’s unbidden care.

Sungjin pulled off the ribbon wrapped around the cake, excitement apparent on his face.

“What flavor did you get?” Dowoon wasn’t sure if Sungjin was excited about the cake, or about the prospect of not spending his birthday alone at home, but he asked anyway.

Sungjin placed his fingers on the lid. Dowoon watched intently, more curious about the cake than he had let on, and waited for the box to be opened.

“I got your favorite.”

Dowoon almost didn’t hear him. Sungjin pulled off the lid, revealing a black forest cake with candied cherries on top. But Sungjin didn’t like dark chocolate because it was too bitter, and—

“You hate cherries.”

“I never said I hated them, silly.” Sungjin rolled his eyes, setting the piece of cardboard down on the table. “And before you protest, I got this because they ran out of chiffon cake. It’s better than getting a strawberry one.”

Sungjin always had an explanation for everything. Dowoon calmed down a bit. He wasn’t even aware that he was feeling on edge.

“You should’ve gotten carrot cake.”

His words were meant to be teasing, but the effect was lost in his weak tone. His throat felt dry as his gaze met with Sungjin’s, who flashed him that dazzling smile he’d come to expect every once in a while.

“I hate carrots, stupid.” He laughed, coughing a bit afterwards. Dowoon forced himself to smile.

“I know.”

 

~

 

_ February 2011 _

Dowoon was transferred to a different room from his previous place in the ward. Often, when he woke up in the wee hours of the morning from one of his nightmares, he could hear hushed voices talking out in the hallway:  _ He’s still so young. It’s such a pity. _ He’s heard it all by now.

He hated this place. He hated the way the nurses looked at him, like he was a fragile little thing who would suddenly harm himself any second. He hated the way the doctors approached him cautiously, like he was a wild, untamed animal. He hated the smell, and the medicine, and the food. All the hospitals he’s been in always felt like prisons, and this one was no exception.

The only thing that cheered him up was Park Sungjin, the weirdo with the bright smile and kind hands and tupperwares full of actual, edible food. Sungjin would come as often as he could, bringing books, magazines and manga to keep Dowoon preoccupied throughout his therapy. Even with his schoolwork and part-time job, he would come by every single day without fail.

He was Dowoon’s sunshine in this bleak world.

But one day, the sun never rose for Dowoon. It stayed in the horizon, peeking through the darkness. Like it was afraid of him.

That day, Dowoon punched the mirror in the bathroom, the one that reminded him of his ugliness and his deep-rooted scars, the ones no doctor could ever heal. He grabbed the biggest piece of glass, feeling its jagged edges cut into his fingers, and shoved it into his chest.

 

~

 

_ January 2012 _

A large part of Dowoon hated himself for constantly begging for Sungjin’s attention.

He wasn’t doing it on purpose—at least, that’s what he comforted himself with. He felt good and whole and the least bit broken when Sungjin was there to fill his scars with something other than blood and sadness.

Dowoon felt like a charity case, and that the older man was just too nice to transform the shared sentiment into words. He had always known Sungjin to be kind despite his provoking jabs and cutting words—everyone else would have given up on him by now, but Sungjin persevered. He’s persevering, still. He’s visited this hospital so many times already from Dowoon’s constant stays in it that the guards all let him in with a smile and the nurses gushed over him while scuttling down the hallways. Dowoon was almost sick of seeing his face whenever he woke up from his drug-induced sleep, like all the forces of the universe were tempting him with what he couldn’t have nor attempt to experience any desire for.

But waking up to bland white ceilings and Sungjin’s textbooks splayed on the edge of the bed was much better than the alternative. He was sickeningly reminded of it when the door opened with a bang, a brute-ish, middle-aged man walking through it. Dowoon wanted to sock him in the jaw, if only to ease the growing discomfort in his chest.

Sungjin immediately stood, a look of alarm etched into his features. He took one look at the man, who growled at him and told him to leave.

Dowoon reassured him with a slight nudge, and Sungjin diligently slipped out of the room.

His uncle had a morose expression on his face as he sat on the chair Sungjin vacated. His black hair was matted down, his eyes raking over Dowoon’s bandaged body.

“Like your handiwork?” Dowoon muttered lowly. He knew he should have kept quiet; his uncle’s eyes flashed, and he leaned in with murderous intent.

“Ya wanna die, faggot?” He roared. Dowoon flinched at the sheer volume of his voice, backing away instinctively.

“What d’you want?” His hands trembled as he clenched them into fists. He didn’t even care that his voice broke in the middle of his sentence, like he was still a pre-pubescent teenager.

His uncle appeared pensive for a moment, which Dowoon never knew he was capable of doing. He wrapped his big, calloused hands around Dowoon’s bandaged arms, and squeezed.

Dowoon hissed, blinking through the pain. He’s gone through much worse than this.

“I want ya to leave. This place’s sucking up my money.”

Dowoon nodded along to his words despite his inner turmoil. Of course he wanted to leave this place as much as his uncle loathed spending precious won on him, but what was he going to do? He was already impossibly behind on schoolwork, and would surely have to repeat a year. Moreover, he would have to spend more time catching up with his studies, which meant working part-time would be exceedingly difficult. And if he didn’t have enough of an allowance, he would have to—

His breath hitched. He didn’t want to have to relive the memories of stomach pains as his uncle ate to his heart’s content, of being groped and harassed by the men who come over to play pachinko on Friday nights at the only bar who hired him. Dowoon didn’t want to spend another day wondering if he should go into prostitution to make ends meet, and—

“I’ll pay for his bills.”

It was Sungjin. His friend, his savior. His uncle loosened his vice grip on Dowoon’s arm, and he immediately curled into himself. Sungjin had that steely determination on his face, even as his uncle stood and spat on him.

“What? Are you his fuckin’ sugar daddy, huh?” He made a tsking noise. Sungjin’s eyes shot daggers at the back of his head. “Fucking homos. Disgusting.”

“Do you want me to pay for his bills, or not?”

Sungjin reiterated. He had inched closer to Dowoon, standing by the side of the bed as if he could possibly protect him. Dowoon’s bottom lip trembled, and he covered his mouth with his hand.

“Tch.” His uncle stalked towards the door, sparing the two of them one last glance. “Suit yourself, fag.”

He slammed the door shut. Dowoon released the breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

Sungjin let out a string of profanity, each one making Dowoon feel worse than the last. By the time he’s gone silent, he sidled up to Dowoon’s side, his expression unreadable.

“Sorry, hyung.” He wasn’t sure if he was apologizing for his uncle’s actions, or having Sungjin pay for his hospital fees, or both. He felt shitty about it no matter the reason. “You don’t actually have to do it. I’ll find a way to make it work. I’ll drop out and—“

Sungjin silenced him with a glare.

“Fuck no. Over my dead body.” He released a low sigh, crushing Dowoon against him. The younger man let out a warbled  _ oomph _ as his nose collided with Sungjin’s chest. “You have to keep studying.  _ We’re _ gonna make it work, I promise.”

 

~

 

_ August 2012 _

Dowoon carded a hand through his still-wet hair. He adjusted the strap of his bag, looking around for any sign of Sungjin as he shuffled around like the big, awkward oaf that he was.

It was his birthday today. He tried not to be too excited about the prospect of spending it with Sungjin; he knew his hyung was busy with college and his part-time job, and had to change shifts with one of his coworkers to accommodate for Dowoon’s big day. Not that becoming a year older was a big deal for  _ him, _ but Sungjin always went above and beyond for events like this. Birthdays were no exception.

He spotted an overly excited Sungjin jogging towards him. His black hair was styled and relatively neat, closely cropped at the sides and a bit spiked up top. He was wearing the black and red checkered shirt that Dowoon’s been trying to steal from his closet for ages now, as well as a pair of beat-up sneakers.

“Aren’t you cold?” Dowoon asked, by way of saying hello. There was a brewing thunderstorm in the area, causing the weather to be colder and windier than usual.

“I’m wearing a shirt underneath, stupid.” Sungjin rolled his eyes. He looked as excited as Dowoon felt.

They spent the rest of the afternoon in the arcade, competing for higher points on every machine they could get their hands on. Dowoon ended up beating the high score on one of the basketball machines, earning him a hard slap in the middle of his back from a sulky Sungjin. They made their way to the corner bakery near Sungjin’s apartment building, the small storefront filled with an assortment of cakes and pastries.

“Dark forest? Dark forest.” Sungjin barged into the door before Dowoon could protest. They wrestled to pay for the cake, and Sungjin eventually gave in (“You can order fried chicken later.” He reassured, patting his hyung’s shoulders. Sungjin frowned before begrudgingly replying with a  _ Fine _ ).

They watched Game of Thrones reruns and talked about any recent novels they’ve read. Sungjin ended up forgetting about the fried chicken he was so determined to buy earlier, which Dowoon internally laughed about. After binging on cake and coming down from their self-induced sugar rush, Sungjin decided that it was time for some well-needed rest and retreated into his room. Dowoon pulled out the spare mattress from the other room, placing it beside Sungjin’s bed as the other man slipped into his nighttime clothes. Dowoon changed into his pyjamas before diving into the mattress— _ his _ mattress, since he was the only one who ever uses it. In fact, he was 80% sure that Sungjin bought it with Dowoon in mind.

“G’night, birthday boy.” Sungjin reached down to ruffle his hair. Dowoon chuckled and swatted his hand away.

“Night, hyung.” He whispered, straining his eyes through the darkness. He could barely make out Sungjin’s sleeping form, one of his arms hanging over the edge of his bed.

Dowoon could barely contain the happiness he felt. He reached up with the intention to hold Sungjin’s hand, until he paused and thought better of it. Their fingertips touched for a mere second, before he pulled away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y’all, sungwoon is the most precious day6 ship i stg
> 
> edit (08.16): sorry for the wonky update schedule. i’m still working on chapter 11, which is taking longer than i hoped it would. ehhh. i feel like i’ve become pretty lax with updates since the story is nearing its end, but that’s really not an excuse i guess? lol. hopefully i’ll see you guys in the next few days along with the new chapter :>


	11. i know that everyone gets scared

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JAHSJDKD
> 
> i can’t believe my last update was two weeks ago. that’s the tardiest i’ve ever been for this fic TvT
> 
> but anyway, here’s an extra long chapter 11. i was going to end this fic at chapter 12 but i decided to extend it a little, just because i have some other things i’d like sungwoon to resolve first. i don’t wanna rush the ending;;
> 
> this chapter was hard for me to write for a couple of reasons: i had little inspiration, i recently started a new fanfic (a bnha one), and i had very little time to write.
> 
> what pushed me to actually finish this chapter was when i listened to some songs on shuffle and ghost of you (which is, funnily enough, the name of my other fanfic) by 5 seconds of summer played. i got absorbed in the song’s narrative, so i told myself to go ahead and write this damn chapter before i imploded with guilt.
> 
> anyway; i hope you guys enjoy this one! enjoy my blood, sweat and tears.

**_Dowoon_ **

_September 2012_

 

Dowoon swore he would never be back here again.

If his teachers made him write essays about his loathing for hospitals instead of useless bullshit like international events and political discussions, Dowoon would _definitely_ be getting higher grades. But as it is, he was the only troublemaker in the only high school that ever gave him a second chance, which meant that monthly trips to the hospital (for stupid _therapy_ ) was very much necessary. He wasn’t stupid enough to fuck up such a simple request, so he obliged.

He bobbed his leg up and down, squinting his eyes on the giant gray wall clock behind the nurses’ counter. His psychologist should have been here thirty minutes ago; he had gotten permission to leave his last class fifteen minutes earlier, knowing that his doctor was very strict about their appointment time.

He scowled at the thought of Sungjin’s hard-earned money being wasted on a hypocritical asshole, which served to worsen mood at the thought of his hyung working his ass off only to spend a majority of his income on a good-for-nothing hoodlum like him. A ruffian who suffered from severe clinical depression, he added darkly.

He made a promise to himself to make Sungjin’s life easier. He stopped calling him as often, instead making do with smothering his face into his pillow when his chest felt too damn heavy and weeping was the only thing that reminded Dowoon that he was real, and he was _alive._ He dropped by Sungjin’s apartment every now and then, cleaning and cooking (his kimchi soup was fire, if he did say so himself) in hopes of easing some of his hyung’s burdens.

They gradually stopped texting each other. Instead, Sungjin would still leave little sticky notes all over his place—on the walls, the fridge, the couch, the occasional present—scribbled with _Thanks for the hard work!_ and _These are for you_ and _Can you cook something for me tonight?_

Dowoon adored those notes. He liked Sungjin’s scribbly handwriting and the off-brand Post-Its he used. He was fine with not being able to see him for the past few months (his birthday being the only exception, and he was quite happy about that), because the set-up they had now was enough for him. It was enough to make him feel like he was something other than what he truly was, and the escapism was like a drug—addicting, and exhilarating.

He absentmindedly scrolled through his favorite manga-reading website. Sungjin had given him his old phone as a late birthday present, but Dowoon wasn’t stupid; it was obviously brand new, and was just given to him without the box. Sungjin was so stupidly kind.

They were an astounding pair of idiots.

He was notified that his doctor had arrived, and Dowoon breathed out a sigh of relief. He made his way into the office, hoping that none of his earlier annoyance showed in his movements. He had trouble resigning himself to yet another two hours of awkward conversations and odd activites, but proceeded to beat himself up because he should feel a little more grateful that he was getting treatment for his depression at all. At least with this, his urge to harm himself—and others, by extension—was being kept under check.

 _Be thankful,_ he mentally echoed, but that train of thought quickly flew out the window as he laid eyes on his wrinkly old psychologist and his judging eyes. 

He hated this after all.

 

~

 

Throughout the session, Dowoon comforted himself with the thought of watching another local boxing match tonight. Bobby had risen up the ranks in the local tournament, effectively beating his foes into submission, and Dowoon watched every single one of his matches so far. He was glad he had the chance to meet the boxer before he went the professional route; Bobby was one of those people who simply had a talent for the sport, his movements calculated and fluid and _fast_ that it took more than a few replays to realize the complexity of his moves.

Dowoon was more than content with watching from the sidelines, pressing himself as close to the metal barricades as possible as cheers erupt from the crowd whenever Bobby’s punches hit—and they almost always do. He was always close enough to see the way the boxer’s torso twisted, how the muscles in his arms rippled and tensed whenever he went for a hook or a jab. Dowoon’s eyes were always fixated on the sweat trailing down Bobby’s bruised cheek to his sharp jaw, and on the smile that formed on his lips at the very end of each match with his mouth guard off.

It took Dowoon six years to realize that his admiration for Bobby surpassed simple physical attributes and athletic prowess. No—he was _attracted_ to the first person he thought he idolized, and he was an idiot for not noticing it sooner.

 

~*~

 

**_Sungjin_ **

_November 2013_

 

It was supposed to be a normal day for Park Sungjin.

He woke up at exactly 7AM, rolling out of bed and stretching out the kinks in his back. He rummaged through the meager contents of his refrigerator to put together a breakfast that didn’t leave his stomach growling before his first lecture even began. After the jarring realization that his newly-bought (in his mind, anyway) egg carton was already empty, he pulled out the half-empty carton of japchae from last night.

As he chewed on his cold noodles, Sungjin realized a couple of things: 

1) He should take a shower.

2) His apartment was a mess.

3) He kinda missed Dowoon, and no matter how much he told himself otherwise, Sungjin knew that he pined for his cooking more than his company.

It made him feel bad, of course, but as his friends could attest, the younger man made delicious food. _Especially_ his spaghetti bolognese, which he apparently learned from a cooking show he watched once upon a time. It was the most delightful bowl of pasta Sungjin ever had the pleasure of eating.

The fact that Yoon Dowoon was a great cook was both pleasant and sobering when you take his malnourished childhood into account. Sungjin was relieved to see that Dowoon managed to develop a healthy relationship with food, as he discovered the act of eating delectable dishes for the pleasure of it, and not just to calm his growling stomach.

Sungjin had expected his growth spurt to come at a later date—as was normal in cases like his—but now Dowoon was taller and heavier than him and it made his chest swell with pride. It’s like Dowoon was a big dog who needed excessive attention and care, and Sungjin was more than happy to give him both.

He rolled his shoulders, still sore from waiting tables all night, before changing out of his pyjamas  into slightly more decent clothes. The shower could wait a few more hours, he figured. He rode his black-and-blue bike to Busan Arts College, arriving less than half an hour before his first lecture of the day.

He turned in his finished assignments at the teacher’s lounge, and breezed through his “group” report for History of Design. He ate lunch with the people he liked enough to consider as friends, and basked in their lively company as they debated the best armor set in the new MMORPG they were obsessed with. Afterwards, he hauled his beat-up acoustic Fender guitar to the club room with the intent to finish his new song.

The lyrics have been traipsing through his head for some time now, always managing to interrupt his thoughts in the middle of a lecture or while serving orders at work. He wrote the words down in a thin notebook with dog-eared pages and creased covers, which he had designated for songwriting.

Sungjin hoped he’d be alone so he could sing as much as he wanted, but one of his sunbaes was in the room. She waved him over as soon as he stepped into the B studio, and he padded over to her with an awkward smile.

Lee Sunmi was her name. She had expressive eyes and messy brown hair, and was very passionate about playing her instrument. She was kind enough, but was much too eccentric for the likes of Sungjin. He was immediately dazed as she went on a rant about buying new drumsticks—“For the third time this month! _Third!”_ —after her dad thrashed her drum set the night prior. Sungjin didn’t ask why her dad would do such a thing, nor why she was buying new drum sticks instead of a new drum set. He simply sat on the wooden chair beside her, nodding along to her tirade and giving subdued remarks every so often.

When she leaned in and kissed him out of the blue, it took an ample amount willpower to reign in his shock—and almost all of it to not give his sunbae a hard shove.

When she pulled away some few minutes later, Sungjin immediately excused himself and scrambled to his feet. Her apologies fell on deaf, ringing ears; he just wanted to get out of there as soon as humanly possible, guitar be damned.

Sungjin gripped the handles of his bike, his heart hammering from the concerted effort of sprinting the one kilometer from the club room to the silo by the school entrance. He had never been kissed before—not even pecked on the cheek or the forehead, like most of his peers. It was the first time someone else’s face was in such close proximity to his, and it made his stomach churn for reasons unknown.

He pondered about it on the way to his part-time job (he thought he’d check in early, since his few hours of alone time were unabashedly cut short). Whenever he was in an emotional rut like this, which tended to happen whenever he felt something new or bizarre, his Psych major friend advised him to list off possible feelings in his head and see how it affects him. He pedaled a bit slower as he began:

_Was it disgusting?_

Not really. To him, the sensation of their lips touching was akin to his arm rubbing against someone else’s for an inordinate period of time—awkward, and too _close,_ but that’s about it.

_Did I like it?_

In his mind, it was nothing special. What peeved him was the opposite; if he _didn’t_ like it, but didn’t find it disgusting, then—

_Does this mean that I’m incapable of feeling intimacy?_

He almost swerved his bike into a streetlight, earning him concerned looks from the few passersby on the sidewalk. He gripped the handle bar with sweaty palms as he collected his scattered wits.

The revelation shouldn’t come as a surprise to him. After all, Sungjin had long ago admitted to himself, and to anyone who bothered to ask, that he had a fucked-up childhood. He had to grow up quicker than most in order to recognize the mistakes his parents have made concerning his upbringing. He was still in the process of realizing that he himself had no faults, that his mother treating him poorly was not indicative of his worth, but of hers. Yes, his perception of other human beings was permanently distorted at this point, but at least he didn’t throw tantrums or blackmailed people in order to keep them by his side. And yes, he had grown accustomed to the poignant emptiness inside of him that any semblance of foreign emotion immediately warped his sense of self, causing him to react in the only way he knew how: _panic._

But at least Sungjin, for all intents and purposes, had clear-cut morals and manners. Those were two things hammered into him by his father and mother, respectively—the former in a kind, delicate manner, and the latter with actual hammers involved. He could comprehend how to deepen relationships at a later date; for now, he should focus on becoming emotionally stable.

 

~

 

**_Dowoon_ **

Dowoon was back here again.

Nurses in colorful scrub suits scurried down the walkway, pushing metal trolleys and carrying trays and syringes and IV stands. While his view of the rest of the room was obscured by thick green curtains around three sides of the bed he was in, he could spot men in blue uniforms by the desk to the far right—policemen, if he guessed correctly.

A social worker with round glasses and wavy hair sat on the folding chair across from him. She scribbled something onto her clipboard, briefly pausing eery now and then to chew on her already swollen bottom lip. From what Dowoon had observed so far, she was filling up several sheets of paper— _forms_ from the looks of it, but he had no idea what they were for.

She would ask him a question every now and then, her gentle tone somehow managing to scare him into silence. Dowoon had clamped his mouth shut for the past hour, diligently avoiding her gaze whenever she lifted her head, and she released an audible sigh.

“I want to help you, Dowoon-ssi.” She seemed troubled. Dowoon was even more so.

He dropped his gaze to his lap, twiddling with his thumbs. He wished Sungjin was here; his hyung would know what to do. He always did.

“We know no other relatives of yours, and you are still underage.” Her voice had softened considerably, but the fact remains that she was explaining this for the third time already and Dowoon was _still_ at a loss. “If no one applies to be your legal guardian, then…”

She trailed off. Dowoon wanted to reassure her that he would be fine wherever they sent him, because he’s already experienced the worst possible living conditions. There was no need for him to be afraid of some orphanage or shelter or asylum.

But he couldn’t speak through the fear that so tightly gripped him. It’s like his lips were sewn shut and his vocal chords were ripped from the base of his throat.

His uncle had just died three hours ago from driving his truck off a cliff. Dowoon was rushed here in a frenzy of concerned neighbors and aloof policemen, but he was so _sick_ of this place already and he badly needed to leave or the last vestiges of his sanity would cease to exist. That was all there is to it.

He felt bad for Kim Haeyeon. She was trying her best, but she couldn’t get anything out of him; Dowoon would have answered her by now if he could, but he really _couldn’t._

His hands were trembling so much that he struggled to get his phone out of his pocket. The screen had thin, weblike cracks on it which his thumbs smoothed over as he scrolled through his contacts.

He didn’t have that many to choose from. There was his middle school homeroom teacher, Mr. Yang, who called to check up on him occasionally. There was his old boss at the bar who still pestered him with messages about quitting his part-time job at the convenience store and coming back to work at her establishment (which he would _never_ do, because she’s a blood-sucker in every possible definition of the word). There was his grandmother, whose number he kept for emergencies like this, but after being told to sleep in the storage room when he came to visit, Dowoon realized that she cared little for him (or, not at all). There was his uncle, whose contact name was _Boogeyman,_ but he was already dead.

It left him with Park Sungjin.

 _God,_ if only Dowoon was of legal age already, then he wouldn’t have to ask for Sungjin’s help yet again.

He swallowed, tuning out the woman’s worried questions and gentle inquiries.

He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t _have_ to do this. He didn’t need a legal guardian, anyway; he could move someplace else, since he was too old to be living in an orphanage anyway—if he managed to evade the whole mental hospital thing, that is. He would drop out of school, obviously, and find a decent job that didn’t subject him to constant degradation.

He would be fine. He just needed to tell Sungjin what was going on, because the thought of not seeing his hyung at a time when he really needed him made Dowoon feel worse than he already did. So, he started typing:

_Hyung, I’m sorry for bothering you this late at night. I just wanted you to know that my uncle died. I’m at Good Moonhwa Hospital in Dong-gu._

He paused, thumbs hovering over the onscreen keyboard. Dowoon was well aware of Sungjin’s tendency to excessively worry about him. He hoped that wasn’t the case this time around; he didn’t want to have to bother his hyung any more than what was necessary.

He erased the last sentence, before pressing send.

 

~

 

**_Sungjin_ **

Sungjin was still at work when he received Dowoon’s text.

His phone had buzzed in his pocket, earning him a puzzled glance from the restaurant’s manager. He was excused almost instantly, Mrs. Han looking far too excited.

“I almost thought you had no friends.” She let out a hearty chuckle, patting his head as he wiped his hands on his apron.

Sungjin shrank away from her touch, his cheeks dusted pink. He slid out the back door as his co-workers claimed to share her sentiments, and rambunctious laughter proceeded to fill the kitchen.

He pressed the power button of his phone, swiping slightly to see his notifications. He had an unread message from his mother from a few days ago, still sitting at the bottom and still studiously ignored. He scrolled to the top, past the numerous app notifications he kept forgetting to delete and/or disable, until his eyes landed on the most recent text he received.

 

**Dowoonie**

_Hyung, I’m sorry for bothering you this late at night. I just wanted you to know that my uncle died._

 

Relief and concern simultaneously flooded into Sungjin’s being. He almost dropped his phone in his haste to look for Dowoon’s number in his contacts and press call.

He pressed it into his ear as his heartbeat sped up. If his uncle was dead, it meant that Dowoon was in one of four places—at home, at the police station, at the mortuary, or at the—

“Hospital.” Sungjin murmured under his breath. The line rang a few more times before it was unceremoniously dropped, and Sungjin couldn’t help but let a few curses slip from his mouth in frustration. He tried again, and again, but all his calls were rejected before they could make it through the fifth ring. The unease was eating away at his nerves now, and Sungjin knew that staying and working until the end of his shift was futile; he needed to see for himself what condition Dowoon was in, and he needed to know _now._

And so he stalked back into the kitchen with renewed determination. He found the manager talking to one of the sous chefs by the ovens, and he quickly called for her attention.

“Manager-nim.” His voice was a little too loud. Numerous pairs of eyes snapped onto his stiffened form, which would have normally caused anxiety to swell up in his chest and make him curl into himself, but it didn’t happen this time. He was too focused on his mission to save Dowoon—from his situation, from anyone who wanted to hurt him, or from _himself,_ it didn’t matter. Sungjin had to make sure that his beloved friend was safe and sound, and he will do anything in his power to do just that.

 

~

 

**_Dowoon_ **

Sungjin called him three more times before he garnered enough courage to pick up. His hyung shot him a flurry of questions, sounding both worried and harried, but Dowoon couldn’t answer any of it. And when Sungjin practically demanded that he tell him his location, Dowoon’s stomach did some weird things. The feeling itself wasn’t unpleasant, but the foreignness of it wasn’t pleasant, either.

“Good Moonhwa Hospital”, he barely managed to squawk out, before he heard a distinct clicking sound and Sungjin relaying his words—not to Dowoon, but to someone else.

The social worker looked at him as if he had grown an extra head, and blood rushed to his cheeks under her scrutiny. He fidgeted under her watchful gaze, checking the time on his phone’s screen every now and then.

He counted twenty-eight minutes before Sungjin burst through the E.R.’s double doors, sweat forming along his hairline despite the cold weather.

In hindsight, Dowoon must have fallen in love with Sungjin at that moment.

Dowoon’s breath hitched, his heart fluttering as he felt the weight of the past twenty-four hours suddenly crashing down on him. He watched intently through his blurring vision as Sungjin cautiously approached. His skin glowed under the fluorescent lights, a stark contrast to his all-black work attire, and Dowoon briefly thought that he looked like a shinigami.

If that was the case, then his lost, broken soul would gladly come with him.

“What the fuck.” Sungjin chewed on his bottom lip as he slowed to a stop. Dowoon exhaled, his unspoken words collectively rotting somewhere in his brain.

He held out his arms, asking for a well-deserved hug with actions rather than words. Sungjin exhaled, before taking a few more steps toward the bed and wrapping Dowoon in a bone-crushing hug.

Sungjin was here now, and he would save Dowoon like he always did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when will the next chapter be? and what will it contain???
> 
> more backstory, woops. as for when i’ll be posting it, well—it’ll go up as soon as i finish writing it. whenever that may be ;—;


	12. you start to wonder why you’re here not there

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eep i’m posting this at almost 1am TvT sorry for any mistakes
> 
> here’s an extra long update for y’all. i’m gonna pass out now bye
> 
> EDIT: if you guys are wondering which song sungjin sang here, it’s yellow by coldplay. if you haven’t listened to it yet (though you probably have and just didn’t know the title of it) then you definitely should!

**_Dowoon_ **

_Present_

Long ago, Dowoon made a tear-streaked promise on a rickety hospital bed in Busan-si that he would become a better person, and that he would pursue a better life for himself. Dowoon’s current life had far exceeded anything he could have ever imagined for himself; for one, he managed to reach the age of twenty-three, something he never thought he’d be able to do. Second, he was a year and a half away from getting his bachelor’s degree, a goal that felt more like a wish back when he was a scrawny middle-schooler.

The memories swelled and festered inside of him, replaying in his head in that cliché way you often see in movies or on TV dramas. But it was a real thing, and Dowoon was experiencing it in what was perhaps the worst possible moment; his eyes had long zeroed in on Sungjin and the tears streaming down his face that his brain no longer had any processing power left to accommodate the sudden influx of past experiences.

And then—

_“I feel so terrible when I’m with you, Dowoonie…_

_“I always think you’d be happy without me, that it doesn’t matter if I’m beside you or not because your world won’t ever stop turning. But when I met you, my world began revolving around you and only you. I don’t know how I’m supposed to just sit and watch you leave me. I_ can’t.”

He committed the image to memory; Sungjin sobbing in his arms, spewing out words that hit him like bricks. His bangs were sticking to his forehead, his lips pink and swollen from their earlier kiss. This whole situation made him feel like a big fool, like he was the one who pulled the prank instead of being at the butt end of it.

And he felt worse about it, because he knew couldn’t do anything but stew in the mix of feelings swirling in his chest. Nothing that happened in the past two months ever warranted seeing Sungjin like this, not when Dowoon had so much to thank him for.

“I’m not sick of you, hyung. That will _never_ happen.” Dowoon murmured in Sungjin’s hair, rubbing slow circles into his back. “It’s just that… we need time apart from each other.”

Normally, it would have been harder to tiptoe around the elephant in the room: his feelings, which are less than familial and painfully affectionate. But seeing Sungjin having such a rare emotional breakdown was enough to shun any thought of mentioning the word _love_ into the recesses of his brain, where it belonged.

Besides, Dowoon could sense the other man’s growing distress. Sungjin was quaking from the force of his own sobs, and there was only one other time when Dowoon saw him so fragile and exposed. To see it happen before his eyes again—and with Dowoon being the cause this time, and not Sungjin’s family—made his heartstrings break (if he still had any left at this point).

He wiped at the hot tears that trailed down Sungjin’s cheeks, slightly relieved that his hyung didn’t flinch away from him.

“It’ll be fine, hyung.“ _For once, let me forget about you._

He threaded his fingers through Sungjin’s brown locks, pulling him impossibly closer. “We’ll be fine, I promise. We’ll go back to the way we were before.”

Dowoon wished he believed his own words.

 

~*~

 

**_Sungjin_ **

Dowoon fastened his seatbelt with a crisp _click,_ before gripping the black steering wheel. He had volunteered to drive them home, and Sungjin was too dazed to refuse.

The ride back was filled with silent breaths and radio chatter. Sungjin curled into himself, crossing his arms over his chest as if it would protect him from the disappointments of the world.

The reality of the situation hit him when they arrived in front of their house ( _my_ house, his brain helpfully supplied), and a wave of bitter nostalgia surged through him.

Dowoon’s been treating him gently, speaking to him in a soft tone as if afraid he’d blow up any second—in what manner, Sungjin wasn’t particularly sure. He was torn between pulling out all the hair from his scalp and pulling Dowoon into a headlock until he yields and promises to move his stuff back in the morning. The latter made him want to yell and cry at the same time, so it was a no-go; he settled for hugging his knees and leaning against the window, the cold air from the AC slowly seeping into his exposed skin.

“Hyung, can we talk?” Dowoon’s left hand was resting against the steering wheel, tapping his calloused fingers on the black leather. His gaze was trained on the Patrick Star figurine on the dashboard, the one he jokingly gave Sungjin as a gift for Christmas.

“Mhmm.” Sungjin’s throat was sore. He buried his face between his knees, sheer horror building up inside his stomach once he began remembering the things he said and did earlier. Oh _god,_ how was his consciousness ever going to let him live this down? He cried like a baby in front of Dowoon and practically begged for him to stay, like he was some teenage heroine in a drama, and it was mortifying to have the most important person in his life see all of his weaknesses in one fell swoop.

Maybe taking back what he said wasn’t an option anymore, but he hoped Dowoon realized that he meant every single word. He only wished he said more, so that all the contents of his heart would be out in the open now for Dowoon to do with as he pleased—and so he wouldn’t have to explain the goings-on of his fucked-up brain any further.

“Why did you cut yourself?”

He briefly cringed, more so at Dowoon’s question than his voice. He fiddled with the hem of his jean shorts, a cocktail of anxiety and uncertainty and the strong lemon scent of the air freshener making him feel ever so slightly dizzy.

“Same reason as you,” was all he could say, but it seemed to be enough. Dowoon’s breath hitched, and Sungjin covered his burning cheeks with his hands. It was a half-assed answer, but Dowoon immediately understood what he meant, and that’s what’s important.

“Are there more?” Dowoon asked. Sungjin wished he would stop asking questions, because it made him feel like he _had_ to answer.

“Some on my stomach, but that’s it.” The words spilled out of his mouth before his brain had a chance to screen them. Sungjin lifted his head, his temples pounding from an oncoming headache.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were moving away?” He rubbed his hands along his neck, feeling his veins pulsate under his fingertips. He wasn’t too keen on hearing the answer, but it felt like the right thing to ask. If anything, maybe knowing the reason behind Dowoon’s actions would lift some of the weight off his shoulders.

Dowoon rubbed his palms together, a nervous habit Sungjin had long noticed him do.

“I don’t know. I just felt like it was something I should be handling by myself.” Averting his gaze was also something he often did, but this time was different. His dark eyes pierced into Sungjin’s soul, making the brunet press his lips into a thin line. “I was planning on telling you, but… I thought I was making you miserable or something by staying there. I thought it’d be better for us to sort things out without punching each other or having awkward breakfasts.“

He paused to ruffle his hair. Sungjin wanted to reach out and do it himself, but he kept his hands on his lap by threading his fingers together.

“I know it’s your thing to just clam up when you don’t like what’s going on, yeah? I’m an idiot, yes, but not dense enough to miss something as blatant as that.” Dowoon released a sigh, as if to prove his point. “I guess I just wanted us to grow apart from each other, because all these years I’ve been so attached to you. I keep thinking that maybe you care so much about me because you love me, and not because you still pity me. But Bam Bam said we were amplifying each other’s fucked-up-ness and I agree, hyung. I think we do.”

Dowoon took a deep breath, his cheeks tinged a bright red. Sungjin opened his mouth, then closed it again after deciding to give himself time to process the other’s words.

“I’m miserable, yeah. And yes, you’re the cause of it, but probably not in the way you think.” Sungjin drummed his fingers along the edge of the window. He took a furtive glance at Dowoon, who met his gaze for a split second before looking away. “I always become selfish when it comes to you. I want to be by your side through all your ups and downs, but at the same time I don’t want to ruin what we have by acting based on what I feel. I thought we’d be more like brothers at this point, but we’re more like—“

“Partners…?” Dowoon helpfully supplied. His ears immediately reddened, and Sungjin grinned at the sight.

“See? We even finish each other’s sentences.” Sungjin allowed himself to smile, to push away the looming issue of Dowoon _moving out_ of the home they’ve built together. His heart throbbed at the thought, but he continued to speak regardless. “Point is, I wanted to be your hyung, because that’s what I’m supposed to be. That’s why we’ve gotten so close in the first place. But when it became clear that I couldn’t do that anymore because of how you felt, I—I don’t know, I freaked out.” _To put it lightly,_ he mentally added.

Dowoon rested his head against his seat, gazing out into the distance. Thankfully, their neighborhood wasn’t too strict on designated parking spaces, or else they’d be asked to move the car into their garage by now.

“Well, I’m pretty sure I fell in love with you a long time ago.” Dowoon’s voice was barely above a whisper, nearly inaudible against the monologue of the gruff-voiced DJ. Sungjin was about to reach for the volume knob on the radio, but thought better of it. “If I didn’t confess to you, all of this wouldn’t have happened, but—I think this was necessary for us. I wouldn’t be able to hide my feelings for you any more than I already did.”

If Dowoon didn’t confess to him, Sungjin would have continued hiding beneath the façade of being a loving, caring hyung. If Dowoon didn’t confront him about his scars, or kiss him the way he did, then Sungjin would bring the secret of his deep love for the younger man to his grave.

The next few minutes of silence were filled with announcements of an incoming storm on the radio, followed by a song Sungjin fell in love with during his college years.

_Look at the stars, look how they shine for you_ _  
_

Sungjin bit his lower lip. He made a mental note to either thank or complain about the current DJ of that particular radio station, because this is what Sungjin was good at. He was good at keeping his thoughts to himself, at bottling his emotions into the bottomless pit that was his heart and pretending they were never there in the first place. And while he was bad at communicating his feelings, he was good at singing them out. So that’s what he did.

He began to sing along, yet he was overpowered by the radio still. As the chorus drew near, he gradually increased the volume of his voice.

_“Your skin, oh yeah your skin and bones; turn into something beautiful.”_

Sungjin’s hand reached for Dowoon’s arm, while his voice reached for his heart.

_“You know, you know I love you so.”_

Dowoon responded in kind. He placed his big hand on the back of Sungjin’s neck, gently pulling him closer until their foreheads touched. Sungjin breathed out the last line against Dowoon’s lips.

_“You know I love you so.”_

 

~*~

 

**_Jae_ **

Perhaps Jae underestimated his friends’ psychosocial capabilities too much.

He was well aware of how oblivious Sungjin could get. It was natural for him, then, to find it undeniably strange that Sungjin could notice minute details, but completely miss the bigger picture at the same time. The best analogy that Jae could think of was Sungjin counting every pixel on a TV screen without realizing it had a 4K resolution. It was the most perpetually dumb yet irrefutably fascinating phenomenon Jae has witnessed so far.

Through their Sunday brunches and occasional phone calls, which almost always results in Jae feeling secondhand embarrassment, he concluded that Dowoon seemed to be faring well (despite his emotional attachments to Sungjin). He displayed a lot more maturity in handling his current situation, with no visible setbacks. At least, Jae couldn’t confirm it for sure—it’s possible that the man was trying his best to keep his feelings under check, and might burst from all of the internalized pressure. Jae needed to keep a close eye on him.

Brian, on the other end of the spectrum, seemed to be exercising his skills in the game of push and pull. Except, he plays with people’s emotions, and Jae was no exception. He also forgot to buy coffee beans last night despite Jae’s continuous reminders, ultimately leading to the disastrous, caffeine-free morning they had. It was an absolute travesty to see Brian walk around like a common zombie, while Jae walked around like a fantastic, genius zombie.

“This is caffeine addiction.” He muttered to himself. It was an exercise he utilized to clear his mind, and with his foggy brain and distinct lack of caffeine, he definitely had to do it _now._ “If I drive, I’ll die. If Brian drives, he’ll die. It’s a Monday so I can take the day off and risk going to the hospital. and Brian has work in two hours, but I can’t be arsed to do this so I’ll just wait for him to buy the coffee while I—“

_“SHUT UP!”_

The sudden, sharp pain that seeped into his skull was amplified by his already dizzy state and lack of sleep.

Brian hit him on the head once again. Jae growled and grabbed his arm, twisting it until he yelped in pain.

“STOP HITTING ME, DAMMIT! WHAT IF MY BRAIN CELLS DIE?!” Jae attempted a judo flip, but horribly failed because of how thin and weak he was, and the only real part of the body he exercised was his thumbs. Brian wrenched his arm free from his grip, pulling his scrawny (and already tired, mind you) body into a headlock.

“I’LL KICK YOUR SKINNY LITTLE ASS—“

“LET ME GO YOU LAME TELETUBBY—“

Their impromptu brawl immediately ceased to a halt upon hearing short, harried raps on the door. Jae used the distraction to pull Brian’s muscled arms away from his head, grunting from the necessitated exertion.

“I’ll get it.” He proclaimed, springing off the couch before Brian could object. He grabbed his wallet off the coffee table and stalked towards the door. For a brief moment, he considered taking Brian’s car keys from the table in the entryway and making a break for the parking lot, since he was the faster runner. But he remembered that his roommate had to leave for work soon, and Jae would get another impromptu beating if he even _thought_ of stealing Brian’s car thirty minutes before he had to leave. So he heaved a big sigh and tried to smooth down his blond locks with his fingers, before opening the oak door.

He was filled with equal parts relief and concern upon seeing Park Sungjin. Perhaps he should be more glad to see his little baby bean’s stupidly handsome face so early in his caffeine-free morning, which might have been exactly what he needed, but Sungjin was as much of a zombie as Jae and Brian were—and it didn’t seem like the kind that could be cured with a steaming mug of black coffee.

Jae cocked his head to the side, closely examining the younger man’s black-and-grey ensemble.

“It’s like you found last year’s winter catalog and decided to copy it—except, it’s still summer, so. LOL.” He snickered, both from the asininity of Sungjin’s clothing choices and the fact that he said _LOL_ out loud. Sungjin didn’t look too amused, but the corners of his lips lifted into a small smile, anyway. How cute.

“Is Younghyun awake?” He asked, and Jae recognized it as an inquiry often used to baffle beings of lesser intellect—a _trick question_ , in layman’s terms.

“Of course he is.” Jae stated, following it with a scoff to drive home the absurdity of Brian Kang pulling a Jae and actually waking up at noon for once. He stepped to the side and pulled the door open wider, glancing expectantly at the fidgety brunet.

“Well? Come in.” Jae made a come-hither gesture with his left hand. Sungjin snapped out of whatever trance he was previously in, squeaking out a soft _Yes_ before ambling inside.

Jae shut the door and padded after Sungjin, inwardly groaning at Brian’s tense shoulders and crossed arms as he hovered by the coffee table—a.k.a. Jae’s home office, personal oasis, and general landfill.

“Hey man.” At least he smiled for Sungjin. Jae rolled his eyes, slumping onto the teal couch and making a concerted effort to not whine and pout like the kid that he was. Brian always seemed to give Sungjin special treatment, and Jae would be lying if he said it didn’t make his insides all weird and squeamish, because it did.

“Hey. Let’s eat breakfast together.”

Why was Sungjin ruffling Brian’s perfectly styled hair? And why was Brian somehow allowing it when he would usually snap at anyone whose hands are within three inches near his head?

Why did Jae even care?

“And why are you two talking like I’m not here?” Jae was full-on pouting now. Sungjin grinned sheepishly and settled beside Jae, their thighs slightly touching.

“Sorry, hyung. Let’s get some coffee?” _Aw,_ even the way he ended his sentence like a question was cute.

Jae cleared his throat, pretending to think about it when he obviously had no reason to utter anything but a _yes_ , but Brian was looking at him strangely and he quite liked it. If they so fancied, he and Brian could get some much-needed Park Sungjin therapy, which included making conversation with the person in question—as well as asking for the occasional hug because, of all the people Jae had the displeasure of knowing over the years, Sungjin unquestionably gave the best ones.

They arranged the transportation, which involved Sungjin and Brian discussing the pros and cons of bringing both of their cars or just one, while Jae hugged a pillow and pretended like he wasn’t the eldest among the three of them yet had no vehicle to boast of.

In the end, they decided to bring Sungjin’s car and leave Brian’s in their apartment building’s underground parking lot (“I’ll drive you home after work,” said his little baby bean, and Jae swore he saw Brian dumbfounded for a second or two and it was probably _not_ because of his lack of caffeine).

They headed to the Costa Coffee two blocks away, because a) it opened at exactly 9AM, and b) their sandwiches are, from the point of view of a twenty-something year old with zero comprehensible cooking skills beyond operating a coffee maker and a microwave, _to die for._

Jae made Brian order for him, and subsequently ignored the redhead’s dirty look as he gravitated towards one of the maplewood tables at the back of the store, conveniently surrounded by four upholstered chairs. He settled into the red one, craning his neck to get a better look at the goings-on by the counter. Sungjin was grinning while fumbling with the black leather wallet in his hands. Brian, on the other hand, was mumbling something Jae couldn’t decipher because he’d already forgotten how to lip read, and was rubbing his hands together like what Justin Bieber was doing in that Calvin Klein ad—only the singer was way hotter and Brian was just… _Brian._ Kinda hot, but not really.

Eventually, his knight in shining armor approached with a tray of sandwiches, cutlery, and coffee cups. Sungjin, still donning his black tweed blazer to Jae’s endless amusement, set the tray on the table and took the seat beside him.

“Is that cheese and tomato? Eww.” Jae fake gagged, drawing out an amused chuckle from the brunet beside him.

“Well, _I_ actually eat tomatoes, unlike some people.” Sungjin smiled, the tip of his tongue caught between his teeth. How can one person look mischievous, attractive, _and_ adorable all at the same time?

Jae grabbed his coffee cup in response. At least, he assumed it was his. Sungjin always ordered Café Blanca because of his caffeine intolerance (yes, it was actually a thing), while Jae preferred his coffee like his soul—dark, and very bitter.

“Hold up, Park Jaehyung is unable to entertain your sarcasm at the moment. His gigantic brain currently needs to refuel.” He ended his monotone proclamation with a slight grunt, followed by a big sip from the white cup in his hands. While the hot liquid burnt his tongue, his shoulders immediately relaxed at the bitter aftertaste. Coffee never failed to make him feel better.

Sungjin chuckled as he placed Jae’s ham and cheese sandwich in front of him.

“Eat up so you’ll grow quicker.” Sungjin reached up to ruffle Jae’s already messy hair. At least now the blond understood why Brian ever allowed Sungjin to do this to him—his hand felt warm and safe, and it wasn’t anything like those annoyingly condescending head pats your grandmother does to make you feel like you’re not worthless even when she clearly thinks you are.

Brian made his way over to them, carrying his own slate-colored tray. He shot Jae a glare as he sat down, which made the blond’s blood boil.

Of all the fights they’ve had since they met, this one took the cake for being the pettiest. Maybe all roommates have to suffer from caffeine deprivation at some point in their lives, but Jae never once imagined that he would have to endure this bratty tantrum from someone as put-together as Brian Kang. Either Jae was unknowingly pushing all his buttons, or Brian woke up on the wrong side of his comfy, queen-sized bed this morning. The former reason warranted further speculation, but the latter didn’t make much sense (or, more likely, Jae just needed more coffee for it to start making sense).

Jae, being the intellectual he was, decided to push the matter aside for now in order to avoid further conflict. He set his sights on Park Sungjin, reaching to pat his head of chestnut-colored hair.

“You should be thankful that I love you, Sungjin-ah, or else I’d be very angry right now.” Jae quipped, letting his lips stretch into a toothy grin. The brunet let out a hearty laugh, as if he was skeptical of Jae’s capabilities to feel anything other than hunger and exhaustion. Brian’s what-the-fuck expression proceeded to drive the point home.

“Speaking of love,” Jae segued, because he could and he wanted to, “How’re you and Dowoon? Still awkward?”

As soon as he mentioned the raven-haired boy’s name, Sungjin’s cheeks turned red and he started choking on his food. Jae was getting ready to do the Heimlich maneuver when Sungjin raised a hand, coughed into a paper napkin, and lifted his gaze to meet the older man’s.

“Holy shit. Did you guys have sex?” Jae spluttered indignantly. It was Brian’s turn to choke on his Americano, which must have burned its way down his esophagus. Jae almost felt bad for him.

“Shit— _no_.” Sungjin covered his face with his hands, but his pink ears told a different story. “We just talked during a fitting. And we kind of—I don’t know—“

He gasped in an overly dramatic manner. “Did you give him a blowjob in a _dressing room?_ How kinky!”

“Hyung, what the _fuck_.” Brian hissed, his already slant eyes narrowed into slits. He was most likely as curious as Jae was, considering he followed his statement with a “Let him talk” and a dismissive wave.

Sungjin took a deep breath, prompting Jae to rub his bicep as an apology.

“I let it slip that I knew he was moving away. He looked so aghast about it, and since—you know—“ Sungjin gestured to his left wrist, where he had… _harmed_ himself some time ago. “He saw that too, and he probably saw what state I was in. So we talked about it for a bit, and I guess we made up.”

“Does he know about the time you stabbed yourself?” Jae asked, no hint of malice or general condescendingness in his tone. He already saw it coming, but didn’t have enough time nor ample reflexes to react; he winced as Brian slapped the side of his head, amplifying his already bad headache and making him spew out too many profanities to count.

Sungjin didn’t seem the least bit bothered. If anything, he looked rather timid, as if he would prefer to not talk about himself at that moment.

“No. We didn’t really go with one topic for too long.” Sungjin rubbed a hand against his neck. Jae’s eyes landed on a small patch of red, and— _no fucking way—_

He shrieked in untamed glee, immediately swatting Sungjin’s hand away and yanking down the collar of his turtleneck. His baby bean had an actual _hickey,_ and it was most likely from the drummer extraordinaire, Yoon Dowoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i added got7 and bts to the fic’s fandoms, just because i’m about to set the stage for the next part of the series and i’m still not sure if i’m gonna write about parkjaehyungkian or jinkook. hmmm
> 
> (on another note, i’m honestly scared of the bts fandom because i’ve met some pretty nasty army’s on twitter before *shudders*)


	13. something pulls my focus out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy crap i’m sorry this took so long. i rewrote this chapter three times until i was satisfied with the outcome, and even then i edited a lot more things for continuity and yeah it took almost a whole month apparently. i hope the 4k-something words could make up for my extreme tardiness though
> 
> serving some major tea in the latter half of the chapter, for those of you with certain questions about younghyun *cue evil laughter*
> 
> buckle up for the next few chapters coz it’s gon be lit (also dunno if i’m actually gonna end this at ch15 WE’LL SEE)

**_Dowoon_ **

When Dowoon was four years old, he lived in an abandoned building with his mother. He still remembered the room they resided in, like a hazy photograph in the picture album that was his memories. The wooden ceilings were rotting, and would drip whenever it rained too hard; the floor tiles were laden with mold, while the concrete walls had long, spindly cracks that branched out.

When Dowoon was six years old, he moved in with his uncle—his mother’s brother. He was taken to an quaint two-storey apartment building in a more developed neighborhood, where he would live for the next thirteen miserable years of his life.

Two days ago, Dowoon had already hauled all of his things into his new place. Packing was a chore, but only because every little trinket and article of clothing reminded him of how greatly indebted he was to Sungjin. He had to bring some of his furniture with him, which he dismantled and packed into their original boxes (which were still miraculously in the garage, because his hyung apparently had a cardboard hoarding problem), before loading them onto the back of Jungkook’s pick-up truck.

He had to do all of it whenever Sungjin wasn’t home, which made him feel like a secret agent and a thief at the same time. No matter what the case was, he hated going behind his hyung’s back.

Dowoon should have told him sooner. He should have foreseen that Sungjin would find out before he had the gall to tell him, and it would have some unintended consequences, but—

Said consequences were never fully realized. After their talk yesterday—which was nothing short of enlightening, mind you—they padded back into their house like the past two months didn’t happen. Sungjin sat on one of the bar stools, swivelling around while Dowoon pulled out some ingredients for dinner. They traded stories and bantered like they always did, except when Dowoon started chopping some carrots on the countertop, Sungjin pulled on his collar, chewed on his bottom lip, and said “No carrots please”.

And Dowoon, of course, immediately obeyed.

He sighed at the memory of last night, still equal parts giddy and confused. Yes, Sungjin kissed him, and they did some more… _intimate_ things, but there were still a lot of questions left unanswered. Like, what was the true extent of Sungjin’s fear? What about his sadness—what if he was on the brink of depression? What if he was _already_ there, and Dowoon was only making things worse by leaving?

He shuddered at the thought, pulling his blanket up to his chin to make a barrier between him and the rest of his cold, empty bedroom. Dowoon barely remembered that phase of his life where he experienced constant, crippling sadness, save for a few snippets here and there that he sometimes recalled whenever a similar situation was brought up in a conversation. Jae had called him out on his avoidance tendencies whenever they tried to take a trip down memory lane, since Dowoon had dodged every question about his sadness by saying he couldn’t remember them anymore (which wasn’t _really_ a lie). After much mental prodding and behavioral examination, Jae concluded that his memories weren’t permanently forgotten but were, in fact, repressed. But while Dowoon didn’t dare try to recall any specific experiences, he still vaguely remembered the emptiness and the lethargy and the sinking feeling that came along with endless, nightly tears.

His phone began to ring, then, and Dowoon wriggled an arm out of his self-made cocoon to reach for it. He and Sungjin both had weekends off, but so did his small gang of misfits—er, group of friends.

He scrolled through the LINE group chat Wonpil made to plan for his birthday, where it was currently being spammed with Bam Bam’s amazing displays of eloquence.

 

**FIVESOME**

**DoubleB** : HOLY SHIT

 **DoubleB** : OMGGGGG!!!!

 **DowoonThatGotAway** : noisy;;;

 **DoubleB** : HYUNGGGGGG~~~

 

His next message had a black and gold invitation attached to it, with _STAG PARTY WOO_ as the caption.

 

 **DowoonThatGotAway** : we arent even invited tho why so excited

 **DoubleB** : uM aren’t we friends with the groom’s brother!!

 **DoubleB** : @wonpillieee AMIRITE OR AMIRITE

 **JungJungkook** : LMAOO BB JUST WANNA GET SHITFACDDRUNK

 **DoubleB** : HELLS YEA. THERE’S GONNA BE BABES TOO AYEEEE

 **wonpillieee** : yah but aren’t you all gay

 **kimtaetae** : LOL. Truth.

 

Dowoon snorted, sitting up to rest his back against the headboard.

 

 **DowoonThatGotAway** : everyone but bb apparently

 **DoubleB** : yea dude i like boobs, not dicks

 **JungJungkook** : but why not like both?!! :D at least you’d have more chances of winning lolol

 **wonpillieee** : suck a dicc jk

 **JungJungkook** : lemme suck sungjin hyung’s dicc @DowoonThatGotAway

 **DoubleB** : LOLOLOL

 **kimtaetae** : Didn’t you mean Seokjin hyung @JungJungkook lolol

 **DowoonThatGotAway** : go die in a ditch @JungJungkook

 **JungJungkook** : ooOH #TRIGGERED

 **DoubleB** : LMAO KOOKIE ~~ HYUNGS GONNA KICK UR ASS

 **kimtaetae** : How did this go from going to a stag party to Dowoon hyung beating JK up?

 **wonpillieee** : gahhh kids these days are so violent

 

Dowoon locked his phone, smiling a bit as he rubbed the bridge of his nose with the pads of his fingers. Yeah, gang of misfits was _definitely_ more accurate.

He stepped outside of his room, and was immediately met with the sight of cardboard boxes stacked against the far wall. The living area was rather bare, save for a wooden coffee table that doubled as a couch because Dowoon was too lazy to go all the way to a home depot to buy one. He waltzed into his tiny kitchen, which was fully stocked compared to every other part of his apartment. He cracked open some eggs to make an omelette, and only after acknowledging that he’d unconsciously made two servings was when the loneliness began to kick in.

He slumped down on the single chair by the dining table, before taking a small bite of his food. It tasted great, of course; Dowoon took culinary as his elective again this past semester, because his university’s HRM curriculum was too focused on the business aspect of the course. He chewed on the omelette he had stuffed with an assortment of vegetables—with the notable absence of carrots, that is, and Dowoon forcibly swallowed his feelings along with his food.

He opened his LINE app once more to hopefully distract himself from his thoughts. The boys had begun discussing the stag party in more detail—apparently it was going to be held in Minseok-gu, in the infamous Alpha Kappa Gamma house. Dowoon’s head began to be filled with questions, but he figured he’d ask them at a later date.

 

**FIVESOME**

**JungJungkook** : i have a date tonight wby

 **kimtaetae** : My family’s going to church tonight so I’m gonna sulk around the house I guess

 

Dowoon shoved another forkful of omelette into his mouth. Taehyung had told them about his parent’s deep Catholic roots, as well as the ostracism he experienced from said church members when he was a teenager. He stopped attending mass after that, but still dreamed of joining the choir again one day.

 

 **JungJungkook** : who goes to church on saturdays??!??

 **DowoonThatGotAway** : im free tonight too. wanna hang out?

 **kimtaetae** : Sure hyung!

 **kimtaetae** : Are you sure you wanna spend your time with me though?

 

Ah, Dowoon secretly hoped that Sungjin wanted to see him today. But knowing his hyung, he would most likely be working his ass off to make up for leaving work early yesterday due to their impromptu suit fitting.

 

 **DowoonThatGotAway** : ofc. how about we watch a movie?

 **wonpillieee** : am i not invited to that date?

 **DoubleB** : LOL it wont be a date if its three people

 **kimtaetae** : Yeah @wonpillieee hyung don’t cockblock me <3

 **JungJungkook** : LMAO as if dowoon hyung’s gonna dick u. he’s a bottom through and through

 **DowoonThatGotAway** : @JungJungkook welp at least i pick my partners. im not like you who has sex with anything that breathes

 **wonpillieee** : OOOH BURN

 **JungJungkook** : ;(( y u so mean

 **DoubleB** : LOLOLOL JK GOT WRECKT

 **kimtaetae** : LOL don’t worry @JungJungkook I’m the one who’s gonna dick him ;)

 **wonpillieee** : ㅠㅠ don’t forget to use condoms at least

 **DowoonThatGotAway** : ask for my consent first lol @kimtaetae cheeky bastard

 **JungJungkook** : ewww y’alls gay

 **JungJungkook** : i have discount coupons to a love hotel tonight hajdkdkd should i use it or save it for later

 **wonpillieee** : my family owns a hotel lolol suck a dicc

 **JungJungkook** : lemme suck yours @DoubleB

 **DoubleB** : SHIT

 **DoubleB** : i just realized how straight i am. BYE

 

~*~

 

**_Wonpil_ **

The last time Wonpil went to the Alpha Kappa Gamma house, he drank until the world spun and he broke a member’s nose for calling him and Jinyoung “indelicate faggots”.

These days, the only connection he had with the fraternity was his older brother. He had a lot of ill feelings towards the white marble house that loomed over Minseok-gu, as if challenging all the district’s residents to scramble for a spot in the most prestigious brotherhood of high society. This long-standing elitism made Wonpil sick—not only because he used to be one of those people who believed that the promise of prestige could ever trump morals, but also because the fear of crossing any of the frat’s members was still deep-seated within him.

He combed through his hair with his fingers, some of the wax sticking onto his palms. He had refrained from asking much about his hyung’s stag party, knowing that a) he would be able to bring his friends with little to no objections, and b) it would unquestionably be held in the AKG house, as dictated by tradition, and Wonpil would just have to live with it.

“Holy shit.” Bam Bam sidled up to his side, his dark irises sparkling with horribly-hidden mischief. “Isn’t this place, like, _the_ party house of the city?”

“It’s just a frat house that happened to host too many parties.” Taehyung replied for him, despite not being directly addressed. Being childhood friends with AKG’s current leader must have given him some form of special access, as he didn’t look too impressed with the palace-like structure before his eyes—a stark contrast to Dowoon, who was positively _gaping_ at the façade like he needed to memorize every detail before it all crumbled to the ground.

“You okay?” Wonpil clapped a hand on his shoulder, a smile creeping onto his face.

“Maybe he’s still shocked from the limo ride.” Jungkook snickered, wrapping his arm around Bam Bam’s shoulders.

“‘m fine” was Dowoon’s soft reply, his ears tinted a bright shade of red.

“So, are we going in? Or are we gonna stand here and gawk until the party ends?” Taehyung asked.

Jungkook shot him a dirty look.

“Fuck no. We’re _definitely_ gonna go boy hunting, Taetae.”

The look on Taehyung’s face said otherwise. He leaned forward to pinch Jungkook’s cheek.

“I’m not interested in a bunch of douchebags who live off their parents’ money.” Taehyung grumbled in his deep, rumbling voice that quieted the rest of the group.

Wonpil reached out to rub his left wrist; this watch strap always made his skin feel itchy. He tried not to be too offended with Taehyung’s words, knowing that his friend didn’t consider him as one of those douchebags.

He took advantage of Bam Bam and Jungkook’s five seconds of silence to slip in a quick warning: “Try not to flirt with any of the frat members, kids. Unless you wanna be eaten alive.”

Wonpil only wished his words of caution didn’t fall onto deaf ears.

He pulled Dowoon by the arm as he began ascending the steps. As they approached the intricate entryway, manned by two doormen, Wonpil subtly flashed them the small AKG symbol pinned to his left cuff.

“I brought my friends.” He gestured to the band of twenty-somethings behind him. Dowoon had watched the whole exchange with some semblance of curiosity, but immediately averted his gaze when Wonpil turned to him.

It was only six when they arrived, but it seemed like the party was already in full swing. The foyer was relatively devoid of people, but it was easy to hear the heart-thumping, bass-boosted music coming from the main hall. Wonpil braced himself for a barrage of greetings he definitely didn’t want to hear, before ushering his friends into the crowd of well-dressed bodies in the designated dance area.

Jungkook immediately disappeared from Wonpil’s line of sight, but he didn’t worry too much about him. Bam Bam refused to leave Taehyung’s side, clinging onto the older man’s arm for dear life.

He guided them to a couple of tables by the bar, where Bam Bam was quick to approach the one man Wonpil desperately wanted to avoid: Kim Yugyeom.

He must have let his disgruntlement slip into his expression. _God,_ Yugyeom could fuck a banana for all he cared. He wanted to avoid any drama tonight, and that guy was the living embodiment of chaos.

“Let’s go somewhere else.” He half-yelled over the ear-numbing house music in the background. Dowoon gave him a faint nod, the only indication of his approval, before Wonpil grabbed his hand and led him back into the hallway.

They meandered by the stairwell for a while, voicing out their opinions about the party so far in low, hushed tones. Jungkook should be fine on his own; no one would dare cross him, considering his almost nefarious reputation. As long as Bam Bam sticks to Taehyung and doesn’t fall prey to a frat member with questionable kinks, then he should be fine as well.

“Is it weird that this party is fulfilling all my expectations so far?” Dowoon said as he leaned against the ornate balustrade.

Wonpil shrugged. “Depends on what your expectations are. Are they bad?”

“Sorta, kinda.” Dowoon lowered his voice. “I saw girls in there, with their chests out and all. This is definitely _that_ kinda party, right?”

“Oh man. Jungkook must have went straight for the kill.” Wonpil made a tutting noise. “Yeah, it most definitely is. Aren’t you wondering why I didn’t take you upstairs?”

“Why? To stay in the No Fucking Zone?” Dowoon snorted.

Faint giggles echoed down the staircase, as if to prove Wonpil’s point.

He shot his hoobae a look.

“Yep. It’s Orgy Town up there.”

His face contorted into an expression Wonpil could only define as a mix of disgust and wonder. “Orgy? Like… group sex?”

Wonpil chuckled, and he saw the tips of Dowoon’s ears redden ever so slightly.

“Exactly.”

 

~*~

 

**_Sungjin_ **

The last time Sungjin went to a party, he drank so much soju that he eventually forgot about it. Younghyun would occasionally spew tales about his alcohol intolerance to anyone who would listen, which always ended with Sungjin being at the butt end of a joke that had questionable credibility.

But through hazy recollections and some brainstorming, Sungjin managed to connect the dots: the last time he went to a party, he had sex with Younghyun.

It was easy to scoff at his conclusion, simply because of the sheer ridiculousness of _Kang Younghyun_ sleeping with _Park Sungjin,_ but it made a whole lot of sense in hindsight. Like, Younghyun wouldn’t look at him properly the day after the party, and he had winced when he sat down too quickly on his desk chair. Sometimes his cheeks would get a little bit too red whenever Sungjin ruffled his hair or swiped crumbs off his chin, and splutter out excuses whenever Sungjin so much as _implied_ that he wanted to spend some time together.

It made him question a lot of his prior judgements, then, when Younghyun started grilling him about _That Night with Dowoon_ , as Jae had so dubbed, while on the way to Kim Siwon’s stag party.

“So what, did you top? Did _he_ top? Dowoon doesn’t look like a top, though.” Younghyun murmured the last part under his breath, but Sungjin strained to hear all of it. “Isn’t he pretty buff though? He did boxing some time ago, and now he’s into drumming, so he should have some big guns. How have I _not_ seen them yet?”

Younghyun had an incredible mix of betrayal and curiosity in his expression. There must be a reason why his emotions were so easy to read while talking about this particular topic, of all things.

“Hey, I work out too you know.” Sungjin flexed his muscles, pretending to have great biceps when he clearly had none to speak of.

“Come on, don’t dodge the question.” Ah, there it was; the slightest hint of tension beneath the lilting notes of his voice, coupled with his white knuckles on the steering wheel. “You just let Jae grill you the other day and now you won’t even answer one question? I’m a bit hurt.”

“Ah—that’s not—“

Sungjin sighed. Why did he ever think it was a good idea to sleep with his best friend? Regardless of how inebriated he was at the time, he knew it would still have consequences he didn’t have the time nor the energy to deal with.

Okay, maybe that was a little too cold. Sungjin would never want to lead Younghyun on, regardless of if his feelings developed before or after their drunken hook-up. The party took place over two years ago—anyone who personally lnew Younghyun would think that a non-committal man like him would forget about it soon enough, shrugging it off as an event that would inevitably happen when a bisexual man and a closet gay become too close for comfort, but that didn’t appear to be the case.

At least, Sungjin _really_ hoped it wasn’t, and that Younghyun never had any feelings for him at all. He honestly wished he was just seeing things, or assumed that Younghyun liked him because of some small things, because hurting his best friend was the last thing he wanted to do.

“Well?” Younghyun glanced at him expectantly. Sungjin would have yelled out “Look at the road, stupid” if this whole situation wasn’t so nerve-wracking.

“I didn’t top, because we didn’t go all the way.” Sungjin writhed his hands in his lap. “I wanted to take it slow. But at the same time, it’s hard to not release all those years of pent-up frustration, so… we did _some_ things, I guess you could say.”

His face burned from his words. He wanted to curl into a ball and hide somewhere, preferably in a ditch, and Younghyun’s silence wasn’t helping.

After what seemed like a full minute of silence, Younghyun finally replied.

“That’s nice. I’m happy for you two.” His tone was soft, and almost— _no,_ Sungjin wasn’t going to read into it. If Younghyun said he was happy for them, then he would believe him. He had no reason to doubt his friend’s words.

“Oh, and…”

“Yeah?”

Sungjin massaged the back of his head. “I think Dowoon would actually want to top first. I wouldn’t mind, since it feels good either way.”

“Good answer.” This time, a faint trace of a smile brightened Younghyun’s face. Sungjin resisted the nagging urge to celebrate his small victory.

They arrived at the designated location soon enough. The sprawling gardens immediately caught Sungjin’s interest, as they were lined with blooming marigolds and perfectly-trimmed hedges.

“Hey, I thought of something.” Sungjin turned to the other man as he emerged from the car. “Aren’t fraternities just glorified cults?”

“‘Specially this one, I feel.” Younghyun snorted, his keys clinking as he shoved them into his blazer’s pocket. “There’s so many rumors surrounding them, from bestiality to human sacrifices. It’s hard to separate fact from fiction nowadays.”

“I heard the one where all AKG members were supposedly sociopaths.” Sungjin halfheartedly chuckled. Younghyun snickered in response, and they continued walking down the asphalt driveway.

 

~*~

 

**_Jae_ **

Unlike all of the moronic, millennial Neanderthals that comprised Alpha Kappa Gamma’s newly-hazed members, Jae would consider himself a worthy addition to the fraternity.

He was considered an honorary member already, what with his numerous papers and studies conducted in collaboration with the fraternity’s older members (the ones that _actually_ had their brains in their skulls, and not in their testicles). It didn’t hurt that the most influential member and top dog— _Kim Seokjin_ , he reminded himself, lest he started calling him “leader” everywhere he went—often asked him for advice and the occasional insight on his current lessons, as the youngest son of Samseong Corporation’s CEO is studying for his masters in Behavioral Psychology as well.

Through their not-so-tutoring sessions over fragrant Earl Grey tea and chocolate chip crumpets, Jae had learned (and earned) a lot. For one, Seokjin was very handsome, and the amazing rose garden that is their backyard is nothing compared to his looks. Second, Seokjin was very miserable, and Jae had more than a few reasons to believe that he had been (or may still be) a victim of physical abuse.

Sad life stories aside, Seokjin was the most idyllic gentleman Jae has ever met. Perhaps the only fault the man had was in his sense of humor, as his repertoire was filled with dad jokes, as if he constantly went out drinking with fifty year-old men (which may not be too far from the truth considering Seokjin’s father, a.k.a. CEO Kim, was only a little over fifty years old).

Today, Seokjin had attempted to dress down by wearing a white shirt and a thin blazer, and even _then_ he still managed to look like a prince beside the common chicken that is Jae.

“Hey you! It’s been a while.” Seokjin flashed him a thousand-watt smile, and Jae was temporarily blinded.

“Ah, no. Four months isn’t that long.” Jae disguised his newfound embarrassment with a small chuckle. He resisted the urge to fix his hair, which was undoubtedly messy, but Seokjin already beat him to it.

“Still rocking the _just got out of bed_ look, I see.” He emitted a full-on laugh this time, and Jae was stuck in blissful ambivalence.

Seokjin tucked a stray bleached strand beneath his ear, before stepping back and giving Jae his much-needed personal space back. The blond began wondering if skinship of any form can only be done once certain relationship parameters are met—and if so, what are those parameters and _how_ did Seokjin manage to overcome them so quickly?

“You mean the _just had sex_ look? Yeah, of course. I rock that everyday.” Jae deadpanned, causing Seokjin to do that snort-laugh that was a hundred times more endearing than watching a baby otter swim for the first time.

“I don’t believe you, but I’m still going to pretend that I do.” Seokjin patted his shoulder in a condescending manner. He was eventually steered towards the sunroom, where Jae had spent most of his time in the frat house.

After a bit of catching up (in which Jae avoided talking about his current research at all costs— _especially_ the fact that he hasn’t made any progress for the past three months), they were served a silver platter filled with hors d'oeuvres and—

“What’s this?” Even after moving in with Brian, Jae still hasn’t gotten used to eating real food on a daily basis. He stared at the abomination placed in front of him, sitting on an ornate ruby-and-gold plate. It looked like a cross between a subway sandwich and a fancy-schmancy crab cake, and Jae already knew that the complex flavors would undoubtedly go over his untrained palate.

“It’s a sandwich. Try it.” Seokjin grabbed his sandwich and took a hefty-sized bite out of it. After recovering from the minor shock of not seeing the prince use eating utensils, he followed the other man’s lead and— _oh wow,_ it was amazing.

“Christ, man.” He muttered, his mouth still full as he attempted to stuff the whole thing in one go, to no avail. “This is fucking delicious.”

“I had a hunch that you’d like it.” Seokjin grinned. He set down his sandwich in favor of taking a sip of his cocktail. “I hired the best chef in town for this party. He’s gonna cook for us until tomorrow afternoon, so you’ll be in for a real treat.”

“You always feed me amazing food whenever I visit you. Why did we ever stop seeing each other?” Jae asked, possibly digging a hole for himself. The answer became clear after a few seconds, and just like that—it was already too late to take back what he said.

“Well it’s not because I stopped inviting you. You were always welcome to come over.” Seokjin’s lips stretched into a lopsided smile. Jae could feel his ears heating up in sheer mortification.

“Yeah, I knew that. Pshhh.” He contorted his face to hide his humiliation—and to hopefully steer the conversation away from controversial topics to more light-hearted ones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh man i always enjoy writing the five devil spawns (aka wonpil, dowoon, taehyung, jungkook and bam bam). i think their chemistry as a group is good, and they actually remind me of some of the people i used to go to school with (not the bad ones, of course)
> 
> i hope the next chapter won’t take another month omg. that being said, i was hoping to finish this story this month so i could start the next part of the series in november (which is also my birth month kthnx bai)
> 
> ALSO if you guys wanna hit me up, i have an instagram account where i post non-cringy kpop fanart. it’s @theami.su hehe feel free to dm me


	14. time to make one last appeal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello kids
> 
> so updating this took me a whole ‘nother month. what a shocker (*insert sad face*)
> 
> i wasn’t satisfied with how this story was progressing in the past few chapters, which is why updating felt like such a chore. i didn’t enjoy writing it as much as i used to, and kept getting sidetracked with other projects (in varying fields of art, cuz this girl’s gotta get that spending money too). long story short, i felt lost and had no idea what direction to take this story to, or if i would be able to wrap it up in two frickin chapters. but now i feel like i could definitely make these last two chapters work, not only because of my renewed passion for this particular ship (thank the amigo tv episode for that lolol), but also for this fandom in general (which is because of their new album—and if you haven’t listened to it yet then oh god, shame on you, it’s amazing)
> 
> if y’all want some song recs to celebrate the nearing end of this story, then here ya go:
> 
> 1\. yellow - coldplay  
> 2\. i need somebody - day6  
> 3\. falling - day6  
> 4\. i’m alright - rynx ft. jimi ono  
> 5\. stars - jimin park  
> 6\. take me down - the rose  
> 7\. selene - imagine dragons  
> 8\. crazy little thing called love (remastered) - queen
> 
> you can listen to it while reading (or re-reading, lol). if you’re like me and playing music in the background easily distracts you, then you can just skip this i guess ;(
> 
> enjoy chapter fourteen kiddos

**_Sungjin_ **

Sungjin admired himself in the mirror.

That was a sentence he never thought he’d act out in real life until this very moment, when he was much too tipsy to care about trivial things such as self-depreciation. He smoothed his recently-washed hands along the front of his blue blazer, which had padding on the shoulders to give his body some much-needed structure. He wore a tight-fitting white shirt underneath, since in this transitional period between summer and autumn, a full-on suit wasn’t quite necessary. And of course, the event itself didn’t require strictly formal clothing—if anything, smart casual was the dress code they described in the invitation, which somewhat matched the dance club vibe Siwon was undoubtedly going for.

He tousled his hair, his black roots already peeking through. He’d been debating shaving his hair off for some time now, as styling his bangs every single day before going to work was much too tiresome. He had better things to spend those precious five minutes on, like catching some more z’s or staying with Dowoon a little longer.

Except, you know—Dowoon doesn’t live with him anymore.

He fiddled with the strands a bit more, wondering just how much liquid courage he had to waltz into a barber shop at nine in the evening and ask for a full-on buzz cut. He’d tell them he was doing his military service soon—as if he needed any excuse to get a haircut—before going straight home and maybe regretting his alcohol-fueled decisions tomorrow morning.

Better yet, he would take Dowoon with him. That should work out nicely. He had much better alcohol tolerance than Sungjin from spending his middle school years hanging out with college frat kids (now that he thought about it, he had no idea if Dowoon ever went to a frat house before now. Hmm), so he would be sober enough to stop Sungjin from making overly-rash decisions. Plus, he needed someone to drive him around.

But honestly, he wanted to see Dowoon to regain even a small speck of his sanity back. Not even a lot of it, as if one’s wits could be measured with the metric system, but just enough to clear all the weird thoughts from his mind. Like, his best friend being potentially smitten with him, or the fact that his sister was getting married in t minus three days and he was  _ not  _ ready for it at all—not for the event itself, as he would have to smile at all the strangers whose names he didn’t know because he was  _ the bride’s brother,  _ and certainly not for the mandatory chat with his own parents, which he admittedly dreaded more than having to see Siwon and Hyesung kiss in front of his very eyes. He wasn’t prepared for  _ anything  _ in this life of his, and with Sungjin being the way he was, not being in control of anything—whether it be his emotions, his future, his productivity, or even how he acts in his various relationships—meant that his anxiety was ready to rear his ugly head again.

He doubted he’d ever be in full control, too. But at least he had some influence over this one night, and whether it’d be a cringy story to keep to himself, or a great prerequisite for all the good times to come.

So with his half-baked plan in mind, Sungjin stepped out of the small, quiet haven that was the men’s bathroom, before slipping back into the main hall-turned-dance club.

He was met with colorful lights that were way too bright, which provided little guidance as to where he was supposed to be going and who (or what) he could potentially collide with in the process. He weaved his way through the throng of partygoers, his head beginning to throb from the loud music and the sweaty bodies surrounding him from all sides. Even the air in this place was more humid, and Sungjin abhorred it with a passion. He saw a glimpse of the exit to the far left, and elbowed someone in the process of beelining straight to it. Just as he thought he had cleared the dance floor area, he witnessed an orgy going on in the corner, and what the actual _fuck_ , why are they fucking on the _buffet table_ of all places—

“Hyung!” was yelled into his ear a little too loudly for his liking, but he doubted he’d hear it otherwise so he immediately forgave the person. It didn’t stop him from flinching away and shooting them a heated glare, though.

He raked his eyes all over the person’s face, waiting for his vision to adjust or for a strobe light to hit exactly where he wanted it to. Thankfully it did, and for just a second or two Dowoon’s face was illuminated by obnoxious purple light.

“Dowoonie! I’ve been looking for you.” He said, but his voice was eaten up. He couldn’t explain how—not in detail, anyway, but that’s how it felt. Like he spoke into the void, but it only slurped down and chewed on his words.

Dowoon looked like he didn’t understand, either. Sungjin felt the younger man’s gestures before he saw it; the sudden grip on his wrist didn’t make him pull away like he usually would. In a way, he instinctively recognized the slight callousness of the fingers that closed around his inner wrist. Even the other man’s warmth was something he felt drawn to, and he immediately sidled into the other man’s side. It was the Dowoon he loved and cared for—and for now, at least, Sungjin had nothing to be afraid of.

Dowoon began to speak. Sungjin heard deep, low mumbles, but he couldn’t properly make out the words due to the music. He wasn’t even a hundred percent certain that his ears were functioning at an optimal level; if he had somehow gone deaf in the past five minutes, he wouldn’t be very surprised.

He settled for tugging on Dowoon’s other arm, where his blazer hung after he discarded it some time ago (and yes, Sungjin was definitely glancing at his direction way too often during the program earlier, but it had more to do with being neglected by a quarrelling Younghyun and Jae than any tangible need for his company). The raven-haired man caught on pretty quickly; he began leading Sungjin out of the room, steering them past the raunchy, sex-crazed harlots by the buffet table and out into the hallway.

He slugged the wooden door closed with his fist, before leaning against the empty stretch of wall beside it. He unwittingly pulled Dowoon with him, made possible by the tight grip Sungjin had around his wrist. Dowoon’s side collided with Sungjin’s chest, and he let out a warbled  _ oof  _ while the former gasped.

Before Dowoon could apologize or do something equally pointless, Sungjin rotated him by his shoulders so that they faced each other, a smile growing on his face all the while. He cupped Dowoon’s cheeks with his hands, smoothing his thumbs along his soft skin.

“Gah, you’re too handsome.” He made a sound that was neither a chuckle nor a giggle, which gradually increased in volume at the sheer embarrassment that dominated Dowoon’s expression. Sungjin continued caressing his face, letting his fingers trace the other man’s jaw as everything else faded into the background.

Dowoon really  _ was _ handsome. Sungjin couldn’t fathom why no one else fawned over Dowoon as much as he did. Yes, he knew that the younger man had a callous, almost ignorant attitude at times, but it was relatively easy to discern the kindness beneath his façade if you knew what to look for—

Well, fuck. It was obvious to anyone that Sungjin was head-over-heels for him, probably since day one. It was idiotic for him to have denied it for this long, when it was clear that Dowoon would be his end-all, be-all until the day he died.

“You’re handsome too.” Dowoon replied tentatively, as if he wasn’t whether to take his hyung’s words seriously or not. Sungjin nodded along, whispering a  _ thank you _ as Dowoon slowly engulfed him in a warm, one-armed hug.

“Can I kiss you?” Sungjin asked in the sweetest voice he could muster. He began caressing the other man’s nape, diligently watching his face as his cheeks and ears began to redden with his signature flush.

“You’re drunk, hyung.” Dowoon stated the obvious. He pursed his lips afterwards, as if to further tempt Sungjin. “Should I take you home? I can get a taxi—“

“Shhh.” Sungjin cut him off by clamping his hand over his mouth. “I have a better idea. Let’s go to a hotel.”

Dowoon didn’t seem too keen on the idea. He stood up a bit straighter, levelling his gaze with Sungjin, who was doing the puppy eyes thing that never failed to get him what he wanted on the off chance he ever used it on anyone.

Dowoon’s ensuing sigh was all the confirmation Sungjin needed. He did a little victory dance, still close enough to Dowoon to make him all pink-eared and flustered.

“Okay, hyung. I’ll book a room somewhere in Minseok.” Dowoon pulled his arm away from Sungjin to reach into his pocket, presumably for his phone. “You need to sober up a bit though. Why don’t we sit down somewhere first?”

Sungjin hummed in reply. It wasn’t everyday that he got to experience being on the other end of the spectrum; he was always the one babysitting Dowoon, and now it was the opposite.

Despite his overall no-shits-given attitude at the moment, a few thoughts still lurked at the back of his mind. As Dowoon escorted him out to the courtyard, where the breeze coming from the sea compelled both of them to pull on their blazers again, he had this nagging feeling that maybe he was being a burden.

Dowoon could be enjoying the party with his friends right now. From the little tidbits of information he gathered from other people’s stories over the past few months, he concluded that Dowoon’s group of friends were the rowdy, party-loving bunch (or at least, Bam Bam definitely was). Dowoon himself wasn’t a party animal by any means, but he could still be drinking shots with Jungkook or Wonpil right now instead of helping Sungjin walk in a straight line.

And Sungjin, for the life of him, only realized then and there what his current emotions implicated. It made sense that this feeling of being dependent on someone, no matter how little of a nuisance you try to be, can still make you feel as if you’re encumbering someone. That must be what Dowoon was feeling this whole time—only worse, because Sungjin went above and beyond simple babysitting. Now he better understood a tiny fraction of what Dowoon was trying to articulate to him, and why he wanted to leave to prevent himself from being a further burden, but Sungjin’s selfishness and his own need to be needed was stopping him.

Dowoon led him to an outdoor patio by the massive garden, separated from what seemed like a designated office area by tall glass doors. Sungjin would appreciate the view better at an earlier time of day, as seeing the pristine garden against the cerulean sea would be quite a sight.

They sat on the wicker chairs, which curved to match the low, round end table in front of it. Sungjin sat down on Dowoon’s lap, and curled into him like a child seeking for attention. Pretty accurate, really.

“Dowoonie?”

Dowoon still held his phone, typing away to fulfill Sungjin’s request. Upon hearing his hyung’s voice, he paused for a moment to look up at him.

“Hm?” He asked, dark irises scanning his face. Sungjin squeezed his bicep—where he knew Dowoon’s galaxy of scars were—to remind himself that while broken things could be fixed, they leave bitter memories in their wake.

“Back then, after the fitting, you asked me why I cut myself.” Sungjin paused to move his thighs on either side of Dowoon’s lap, effectively straddling him. “I said it was the same reason as you, right? But it wasn’t. You went through way worse things than I did.”

“The intensity shouldn’t matter, hyung. No one deserves to go through that” was Dowoon’s automatic reply.

“I know, but…” Sungjin pursed his lips. “It’s just one of those things I could have avoided completely if I was just a little braver. Heck, a lot of my problems would’ve been solved by now if I was just a little braver. I would’ve stood up to my mother, or started a company earlier, or accepted my feelings for you sooner.”

“But you  _ still _ did all those things in the end, and that counts for something.” Dowoon placed his hands on either side of Sungjin’s waist. He looked up at him with such a fond smile on his face that Sungjin was struck with the ground-breaking realization yet again—that Dowoon loved him, flaws and all, and it made his heart do backflips in his chest. “Every person goes at their own pace, right? I had a slower development compared to other people my age, but I caught up with them eventually. You’re the same, hyung—you’ve been handicapped by things you had no control over, but that doesn’t mean you’re out of the race already.”

Sungjin felt something swell inside of him, one he could only label as  _ pride  _ at the younger man’s words. He kneaded at Dowoon’s shoulders with his restless fingers, as the words he had bottled up for so long began to pour out.

“But still, I feel like I worry too much about things I have no control over, nor have any business in controlling. For a long time, I was unconsciously denying my own feelings for you to make sure that you follow the dreams I could never achieve—to have a wife, and kids, and a family that would never leave—and it was fucking stupid of me to be so selfish like that.” He sucked his teeth, before his lips settled into an awkward grimace. “Like, shit, all I wanted was someone to love me unconditionally, and this whole time you’ve been doing that but I keep turning a blind eye to it out of fear.”

“But now... I guess I’m done with that. No, I’m  _ definitely  _ done with that. And it’s not because I want you to come back to our house, or to basically do everything I say, but because I know this is what’s going to make us happier in the long run. Even if it means I have to constantly be scared of what the future would bring, of you leaving me for someone else or when you realize I’m just a pathetic trainwreck of a person—“ Dowoon opened his mouth, probably to contest his words, but Sungjin shot him a look as his eyes began to sting with incoming tears. “I’ll keep on believing that you love me, because that’s all that matters in the end. You love me, and I’ll be eternally damned if that’s not enough to make me love myself again.”

  
  


~*~

 

**_Dowoon_ **

Perhaps Dowoon stole one too many glances at his hyung throughout the party. It was rather hard to refrain from doing so; Sungjin was downing glass after glass of different-coloured liquor, and Dowoon was aware of how impossibly easy it was for him to get drunk.

And intoxicated he was. Other than his flushed cheeks and neck (where one of Dowoon’s handmade hickeys still lay at the junction, half-hidden by his shirt, and it made his stomach all jumpy and weird), his words had a certain kind of slur that was more sexy than it was comical.  It made Dowoon think that Younghyun’s once tall tales were, in fact, very much real.

**Myth One** :  _ Sungjin was the type of drunk who would cling to you. _

Judging by the way he clung onto Dowoon’s arm like his life depended on it, this was very much real. Sungjin maintained some form of physical contact at all times, whether it be clasping their hands together or leaning in further than was necessary.

**Myth Two** :  _ He gives unwarranted kisses. _

This was yet to be confirmed, and the thought of Sungjin kissing anyone but him in his current state made his blood boil. Sure, his hyung had dated before (mostly women, if he recalled correctly), but he was with  _ Dowoon _ now. What that implied was yet to be discussed at the moment, but for now, it meant that Dowoon was the only person Sungjin was allowed to kiss.

**Myth Three** :  _ He cries at any given moment. _

Dowoon had known this to be true ever since Sungjin came home with a tear-streaked face one day, smelling strongly of alcohol and cigarettes (the latter of which worried Dowoon strongly; however, he was later assured that it was one of his hyung’s friend that had that vice, and not him). Dowoon didn’t know what to do then, nor was he any better at handling the situation now.

During their little heart-to-heart by the garden, Dowoon was too preoccupied with the fact that his hyung was crying because of  _ him,  _ yet again, to do anything to comfort him. He tried stroking his hair and rubbing circles into his back, but all aforementioned gestures felt awkward and not appropriate for the situation at all. He knew he should be saying something, but no suitable sentences formed in his brain.

Sungjin eventually pulled away, his round eyes red and puffy. Dowoon kissed each of his eyelids and whispered  _ It’s okay, hyung.  _ Perhaps they overused the word  _ okay  _ by now, but that was always the most fitting for any situation, really.

Now, his hyung leaned on him as they continued to walk down the estate’s driveway, his constant weight providing some semblance of comfort. He had found his hyung earlier after escaping Bam Bam and his menacing tray of jello shots, only to be roped into a rollercoaster of calling taxis and booking rooms and wondering—probably not for the last time—if he was going to get laid before the night ends.

Of course, this whole ordeal was making him flustered in very...  _ inappropriate _ places. For one, his hyung was a mess; his face and neck were equally red, and since leaving the patio area he had shed his blazer to walk around in that tight, white shirt of his. He was being a bit too risqué as well, which was a word he only learned recently in an effort to put a label on Jungkook’s general behavior, but he never thought he would use it to describe  _ Sungjin,  _ of all people— _ especially  _ since he was crying like a cute baby just minutes prior.

“Come on. Where’s that taxi?” Sungjin heaved out a sigh. Dowoon could feel the brunet’s chest rise and fall from where it was firmly pressed to his side.

“Almost there.” He scrolled down to find the text he received from the driver a few minutes prior. “Eight minutes away.”

“Christ. I’m almost there too.”

Dowoon stiffened—in more ways than one. Sungjin nuzzled his neck, muffling his laughter into Dowoon’s skin.

_ God, _ his hyung’s suggestive words didn’t help him feel better at all. Dowoon was probably more hot under the collar now compared to that little scene in the hallway earlier, or even back when they kissed for the first time a few days ago. His mind was reduced to being hyperactively aware of every inch of feverish skin beneath Sungjin’s clothes, and what wonders would happen after he takes them all off. And  _ fuck,  _ Dowoon could already imagine the brunet’s bedroom voice when they inevitably have sex— _ hopefully _ tonight, but he wasn’t in any sort of rush, since they had more pressing matters to resolve and heightened sexual tension wasn’t the top priority.

Thankfully, the taxi arrived before Dowoon could do anything to Sungjin or to himself. He immediately led his hyung inside, using the two blazers folded on his arm to hide the growing menace in his pants. Sitting through an awkwardly silent taxi ride with a hard-on was most likely a consequence of being an emotionally constipated, sexually frustrated twenty-something who had only masturbated for a grand total of two times in his entire life, and Dowoon was  _ not _ fine with it.

Sungjin scooted over to Dowoon’s side of the seat, apparently determined to stay glued together for the rest of the night. He began reminiscing about their little “date” last Valentine’s day, when they watched Fifty Shades Darker as a dare, with little to no sexual innuendos or tension afterwards. The Dowoon back then—still unsure of his sexuality, and mostly unable to distinguish his feelings as anything other than “good” or “bad”—was a funny juxtaposition to the Dowoon now, who, for all intents and purposes, had a hard time keeping his hands to himself.

It’s like their skin had magnets, drawing them closer than what was appropriate in this particular setting, but no amount of the driver’s rearview-mirror glances could keep Dowoon from craving any sort of contact with Sungjin.

They arrived at the hotel soon enough. Sungjin immediately stalked to the front desk, tugging a stumbling, red-faced buffoon named Yoon Dowoon along with him. After checking in, they went up to the room they booked on the fifth floor (during which Dowoon had to endure Sungjin’s hands inching closer and closer towards his butt, but made no move to stop it because why would he?). Before Dowoon could even check out what the room looked like, Sungjin was pulling his shirt over his head and kissing him so passionately that he let out an involuntary groan.

All remnants of rationality still in Dowoon’s brain was promptly thrown out the window. He meshed their hips together, his fingernails digging into the soft skin of Sungjin’s hips. The other man continued to kiss him with fervor, their moans and short, ragged breaths mixing together.

If this wasn’t the epitome of intimacy, then Dowoon didn’t know what it was. He was fine with what was going on now—with kissing Sungjin like this, and being able to hold his hand for more than a few seconds at a time without loud sirens going off in his head. He was fine with seeing him a couple times a week instead of every single day, and adjusting to the life of living alone and finally,  _ finally _ being on the road to independence.

And since he was fine with leaving things as they are, Dowoon also thought he was alright with holding off on the next step. He wanted to resolve all the pre-existing problems they had first before potentially creating new ones—like whose dicks are going in which butts, and how much time they should be spending together, and (most importantly) if they’re officially dating or not. But even resolving all the aforementioned issues can come at a later date, or gradually instead of all at once. After all, baby steps was all he could do, since Dowoon had  _ zero  _ experience with romantic relationships.

Yet it seemed like they weren’t on the same page with this, judging from the way Sungjin shoved his hand down Dowoon’s jeans and bit into the skin of his neck and  _ oh,  _ he’s gonna get eaten alive—and he can’t wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just an fyi, i’m working on the last chapter right now so expect it to be posted sometime in the next few weeks. and by “few weeks” i don’t mean in december lol (PLZ DONT QUOTE ME ON THIS SOB)
> 
> i have an insta if you want someone to talk to: @theami.su
> 
> seeya in the last chapter *flips hair and walks away*


	15. for the life i live

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly, the hardest part about writing this chapter was trying not to beat myself up too much, and trusting myself enough to make it as good as i possibly can.
> 
> and you know what, since this is the first ending i’ve written for a short story that’s not a oneshot (cuz this is basically the first one i ever finished), i’m gonna give this a pass. no more beating myself up, because i know i’ve learned a lot throughout the whole six months i wrote this thing, and the next ones are just gonna get better.
> 
> thanks for sticking around until the end

**_Sungjin_ **

Sungjin couldn’t remember the last time he got laid.

He couldn’t remember his first time, either, not unless he tried really hard to recall the specifics—like who, where, and  _ why _ . Sex was one of those things he constantly cringed about whenever the memory so much as flashed in his mind because of how awkward and cringy he felt at the time, regardless of who his partner was, so his brain did the most logical thing and deleted all of them.

But he couldn’t deny that he had some sort of experience, enough to know where he should be touching and what warning signs to look for. The former was easy, because Dowoon’s erogenous zones went from the top of his neck to the pads of his feet—basically everywhere Sungjin could reach, the younger man would shiver or quake or moan or do all of them at the same time. The latter was more tricky, because Dowoon himself had a long-standing tendency of making weird faces that fell somewhere in the spectrum of pleasure and discomfort. Not to mention, it was most likely his first time having sex as well, and all of these sensations were alien to him.

With all of that in mind, Sungjin tried his best to be gentle.  _ Tried  _ being the keyword, because between the burning lust in the pit of his stomach and Dowoon’s sweet, breathy moans, it was hard to slow down his pace as he got rid of the many layers of clothing that separated them.

He had the younger man pinned underneath him now, their sweat-slick bodies pressed against each other as they continued to kiss, slow and deep. When Sungjin was satisfied with how swollen Dowoon’s lips were, and how aching hard his member was under those thin black boxers, he began descending down the other man’s body, leaving a trail of hot kisses and light nips.

He ran his fingers along Dowoon’s bicep, tracing the jagged, bumpy lines of his self-harm scars. Dowoon hissed, as if in pain. Sungjin jerked his hand backwards in his haste to move away, but the younger man wrapped an arm around his waist and whispered  _ Keep going _ —and for fuck’s sake, he was turned on all over again.

“Promise me you’ll never do this again.” Sungjin said, with perhaps too much conviction in his voice. Dowoon looked confused for a moment, before understanding dawned on his expression.

“I will, if you promise to do the same.” Dowoon bared his teeth in a wide grin. His bangs was plastered on his forehead, his eyes narrowed into slits and his lips shining with spit. Sungjin already thought he was beautiful, but with his black hair splayed around his head like a halo, Dowoon looked like the angel Sungjin always thought him to be.

It all progressed in an orderly fashion after that. And when they were both sated and sticky and sweaty, Sungjin pressed a kiss to Dowoon’s forehead and laid down beside him.

 

~*~

 

**_Dowoon_ **

Upon hearing largely unwanted stories of his friends’ (mostly Jungkook’s) sexcapades, Dowoon was introduced to the concept of “pillow talk”. It was Wonpil who kindly pointed out that it was not the act of talking to a pillow; rather, it was a post-sex thing that partners sometimes do to make their concerns known, and to hopefully clear the air between them afterwards. For Dowoon, it was the most logical thing to do after being screwed—hell, he wouldn’t want to pull a Jungkook and run for his life as soon as his partner makes the mistake of sleeping or going to the bathroom after doing the deed. It made even more sense now, because his hyung was all but sobbing and maybe it was a mixture of alcohol and relief from letting his worries be known, but Sungjin had such a content smile on his face that it made Dowoon’s insides clench and swoon simultaneously.

“Why’re you crying?” Dowoon swiped at the tear tracks on his hyung’s cheek, a small smile tugging on his lips. “Was it  _ that _ good?”

It was a harmless joke, of course, but he couldn’t help the way his cheeks burned upon saying it. He curled in on himself as Sungjin’s chest vibrated with laughter.

“It was. You were amazing.” Sungjin absently stroked Dowoon’s side, and his embarrassment was quick to subside.

Has it sunk in yet, that the one person he’s unknowingly been pining over for a large chunk of his life has held him so tenderly just moments prior? No, of course not—the euphoria was only beginning to permeate into his being. Dowoon was already addicted to the feeling.

“Psh. You were pretty enthusiastic, weren’t you?” Dowoon gently flicked the other man’s nose, who yelled out  _ ouch  _ in such a loud, exaggerated manner that his jaw dropped in surprise.

Sungjin immediately recovered, filling the empty silence with sounds of his glee. Dowoon gritted his teeth, but the annoyance wasn’t there to match it. He was still high from being taken so passionately, after all.

“ _ Hyung.” _ Dowoon whined, half-grimacing as he struggled not to smile. “Stop doing that.”

“Sorry. I’m just—oh god, this is gonna be so cheesy.” Sungjin shifted, sitting up slightly so Dowoon could rest his head more comfortably on his chest. “I feel like I’m finally beginning to let go of my worries, and it feels great. It feels awesome. I’m such an idiot for not doing this sooner.”

Dowoon lightly smacked his exposed stomach, eliciting another groan from the older man. “Which one? The sex, or the “accepting that I love Dowoon and I also wanna fuck him” part?”

Sungjin shrugged, almost causing Dowoon’s head to slip off his body entirely. He sat up, shooting a playful glare at the older man who had nothing but a bright, crinkly-eyed smile for him.

The first stage of their little pillow talk didn’t last very long. Dowoon straddled Sungjin’s hips, having recovered already despite his lower back feeling the tiniest bit sore, and they went for another round.

This time, Dowoon made a point to keep their gazes locked throughout the whole time they made love. He watched Sungjin’s expression shift many times, yet his eyes would always hold a sheen of unshed tears. He watched his hyung chase his orgasm, undeniable pleasure clearly portrayed in his expression, and Dowoon burned that image into his mind. If he died anytime soon, he would take that wonderful memory to his grave—and hopefully to heaven, if it existed.

 

~*~

 

**_Jaebum_ **

Im Jaebum never considered himself to be a man of few words. He always had a remark ready for every situation, whether it be to whip a junior back in his place, or to congratulate his friend with the help of sarcasm.

But still, there were still a small handful of times when he was shocked into silence, prompting him to drop whatever he was holding in a dramatic fashion. Yes, it included seeing Mark in a suggestive position with a woman, but the memory only served to annoy him more than anything else. He felt this way as well when Youngjae came home with his daughter, still a few weeks old at the time, and had asked him for help with tears streaming down his face. But seeing Dowoon and Sungjin  _ making out  _ at nine in the morning, on the day of Sungjin’s noona’s wedding, had his feet glued to the floor with his mouth wide open.

“Holy shit,” was the most eloquent set of words he could muster. Thankfully, his body didn’t proceed with his knee-jerk reaction, and he only barely slammed the keys down on the little tray on the entry table. He watched as the two broke away from each other, only mildly realizing that someone had taken the spare key under the rug and stepped into their house. Well,  _ Sungjin’s  _ house to be exact, but that's besides the point.

Jaebum turned to Sungjin, a  _ why didn’t you tell me sooner  _ expression on his face. Sungjin responded in kind, by shrugging his shoulders and licking his lower lip.

Wait. What happened to his  _ hair? _

“Uh—good morning, Jaebum hyung.” Dowoon was addressing him, yet was hunched over and looking at anywhere but him. Jaebum walked over to them, still semi-dazed from what he had witnessed.

Honestly, had Mark not been en route to Los Angeles right now, Jaebum would have frantically whipped out his phone and called him. But since his second closest friend happened to be right in front of him, he grabbed Sungjin’s arm and dragged him all the way upstairs.

Thankfully, Jaebum had put more hours into lifting things than Sungjin did. The other’s protests and general noises of discomfort were lost on him, as Jaebum pulled him along with little exerted effort before pushing him into one of the rooms.

By some stroke of bad luck, they managed to wind up in Dowoon’s old bedroom, which was now devoid of any furniture. Jaebum sucked his teeth.

“Okay, are you trying to rub salt into the wound? ‘Cause you’re doing great.” Sungjin rubbed the back of his neck, a hollow chuckle escaping his lips. His red,  _ swollen  _ lips.

Jaebum made a face.

“Look, Dowoon was the one who told me not to tell you he was moving in.” He crossed his arms protectively over his chest, thankfully regaining some of his lost composure. “He must have a good reason for that. If not, well—that’s not my business anyway.”

“Yes. Of course.” Sungjin rolled his eyes, mimicking Jaebum’s posture. “And to what do I owe the pleasure of your impromptu visit, my dear Jaebum?”

“Oh christ, are you still mad?” Jaebum clenched his jaw. Sungjin acted exactly like him when he was hurt: sassy, sarcastic, and subject-avoidant. “Guh—okay. Okay. It’s fine if you are, I get it. But you said it’s alright if I came over today, so I did.”

Sungjin stared at him blankly, clearly unable to follow the conversation. “Is that why you were texting me about waffles?”

“Yes, idiot. Did you get amnesia in the past week or something?” Jaebum knitted his brows together. He clearly remembered calling Sungjin some few days ago; he wasn’t about to start doubting his own memories.

“Wait, when did you call me?” Sungjin asked, looking as confused as Jaebum felt. Jaebum reached up to touch Sungjin’s head. “—what are you doing?”

“Touching your hair. It’s  _ so _ short.” Jaebum smiled, stepping back to admire Sungjin’s crew cut once again. “It suits you.”

“Thanks.” Cue Sungjin’s pink cheeks. “So when did you call?”

“Like—three days ago. The morning after you-know-who’s party.” Jaebum shoved his hands into his jean pockets. He was never going to say Kim Siwon’s name out loud if he could help it, or else the feeling of wanting to murder said man would come rushing back. Of course, harboring a desire to maim a man while attending his wedding would be problematic at best. “I called around this time, I think. If you were hungover, I didn’t notice.”

“Hm. I probably was.” Sungjin smiled sheepishly. “I got laid that night, too, so I probably wasn’t paying much attention to you.”

“You  _ what?”  _ Jaebum spluttered out, his eyes widening into saucers. “Christ almighty, Park Sungjin. You screwed Dowoon  _ already?” _

“Come on, Jaebum-ah.” Sungjin lips twisted into a smirk. “You’re the only one who‘s still in the friendzone.” 

Jaebum wanted to punch that smug look off his face.

 

~*~

 

**_Wonpil_ **

Today was the day.

Perhaps it had much to do with the outstandingly obscene stag party he had to attend three nights ago, but Wonpil felt prepared for anything; for the smug whispers, the judging once-overs, the poisonous envy sitting under his skin. He was prepared to walk down the aisle with one of Hyesung’s bridesmaids on his arm, and watch his future sister-in-law do the same. He would smile, and shed a tear or two in horrid jealousy, but that would be it. No tantrums, no hissy-fits, no  _ nothing. _

To be clear, Wonpil’s envy was directed towards his brother’s freedom to choose who to spend the rest of his life with, and not so much his marriage with Hyesung. Although, it did surprise him to find out how intrinsically different Park Sungjin was from his older sister. He seemed far more composed, while Hyesung operated at a decibel higher than Wonpil was comfortable with. Or maybe, he had just gotten used to Dowoon’s silent company and awkward honesty that anything beyond it seemed unnatural.

He reached for his phone as he thought of his friends, and their unfortunate absence to this less-than-momentous event. Taehyung had a doctor’s appointment he couldn't miss, Bam Bam had a shift at his workplace and Jungkook had been M.I.A ever since the party. Understandably, Wonpil was most concerned with the youngest member of their little group, as he had never gone more than a full day without sending a meme in the group chat at the very least.

Wonpil sank into the cushions. He had only known Jungkook for about half a year, but it seemed very odd for him to disappear seemingly out of thin air. Bam Bam assured him that going missing for a couple of days was normal for the maknae, who was usually quiet and aloof.

Siwon descended the stairs, the distress apparent on his otherwise handsome face. Wonpil cocked a brow as his brother slowly made his way towards him.

“Nervous?” Wonpil cracked a smile, because  _ of course  _ he did. Siwon tried to mirror his expression, but the way he wrung his hands said otherwise.

“Of course. It’d be weird if I wasn’t.” He tried to chuckle, but it faded almost as soon as it came.

If this was the part where Wonpil had to wish his hyung eternal happiness for the rest of his wedded life, he was going to purposefully avoid doing it. Siwon already had enough well wishes to last a lifetime.

“You’ll be fine. Just don’t trip on your way to the altar.” Wonpil’s voice dropped to a whisper by the end, causing the older man to lean in ever so slightly and shrink the already small gap between them. “Besides, you’re wearing Italian leather shoes. It’d be a shame if you scuffed them.”

“Spoken like a true Kim.” The way he said it, with equal parts chagrin and disappointment, made Wonpil’s stomach churn. “I hope you won’t trip on your way to the altar, either.”

When Siwon reached up to ruffle his already styled hair, it took all of Wonpil’s willpower not to smack it away.

He couldn’t wait for this stupid wedding to be over.

 

~*~

 

**_Sungjin_ **

One of Sungjin’s fondest childhood memories was of his sister.

They had a spacious backyard in their old home. The wooden fence was lined with flower boxes, where eomma tended to her daisies and string beans and cherry tomatoes. To the left was a big tree, and from one of the sturdy branches hung a rubber tire that they used as a swing.

Sungjin would play on the swing after he did his chores, while Hyesung made flower crowns. She always wore that white dress appa bought her as a gift for her high grades during the exams. The more she wore it, the more it became stained from sitting on the grass and the dirt underneath it, but Sungjin knew how much that piece of clothing meant to her.

Once she was done with her flower crowns, she would stand and get Sungjin’s attention by annoying him with words or pinching his nose. Either way, he would always oblige her in the end, and Hyesung would settle the crown of daisies on his head with a toothy grin.

Now, as he gazed at his noona in her wedding dress, he felt a hazy sort of nostalgia overcome him. Her chestnut hair was braided with small white bouvardias, still yet to be concealed by the long veil she was soon to wear. She beckoned him forward with a gloved hand, that familiar grin lighting up her face.

And so, Sungjin approached them.

His father was the first to recognize him. He was the first to stand from his seat and pull him into a one-armed hug, replacing his earlier dread with warmth. They exchanged pleasantries, and Sungjin was pulled aside by his sister before he inevitably spoke with his other parent.

She spread her arms, and they settled into a careful hug, both conscious of the clothes they need to keep pristine.

“I hope Siwon hyung takes good care of you.” Sungjin whispered, and he meant it this time around. He hoped Kim Siwon, for all his shortcomings, would treasure his sister and bring her no harm.

“He better.” When Hyesung smiled, he was reminded of how beautiful she was. It was easy to forget, with her striking resemblance to their not-so-beloved (at least, for Sungjin) eomma.

They shared a couple of jokes, until Sungjin’s nerves came back in full force once he came face-to-face with his mother. She mother gave him a once-over, steel in her eyes, but her hand was gentle as she patted his arm. It was her way of greeting him, after their rocky relationship ultimately led Sungjin desperately looking for a way out of that house—and subsequently, out of their lives. He knew that was the most recognition he was going to get from her that day, but it was enough. Enough to make his years of suffering seem less abominable than what it was, but atrocious all the same.

He talked to his father for a while. He had aged considerably since they last saw each other, only further strengthening the guilt Sungjin felt. He had clapped Sungjin on the shoulder, asking how he’s been; Sungjin dropped both his voice and his head, and said, “Well, I’m dating Dowoon now”, and prepared himself for the worst.

Only, it didn’t come. His father’s words would continue to linger in the back of his mind:

“As long as you’re happy.”

At the point where Sungjin was blinking back tears, the door to the room swung open. It wasn’t one of the bridesmaids, nor was it even the event planner coming to check on the bride. It was Dowoon, awkwardly shuffling by the door, his ears red as he approached Hyesung with a soft “You look beautiful, noona” and hugged her.

Dowoon approached them later on. He exchanged cordial greetings with his father, which resulted in a somewhat awkward side-hug that had the rest of the room chuckling. Dowoon moved to stand beside him, and Sungjin offered him a lopsided grin.

The look on his father’s face was meaningful. Priceless, even.

Just being in the presence of the two most important men in his life was enough to make him the happiest he’s ever been.

 

~*~

 

**_Dowoon_ **

Meeting Sungjin’s parents—for the second time ever in his life, if he remembered correctly—was surprisingly amiable.

Mrs. Park didn’t seem too happy to see him, but Dowoon comforted himself with the thought that she was never happy to see  _ anyone.  _ Mr. Park, on the other hand, was as fumbly and awkward as his son, and the resemblance in personality immediately put him at ease.

Hyesung had called him over before they left, with an affectionate  _ Dowoonie, come here _ . She adjusted his lapel and dusted invisible lint off his blazer. He stood like a frozen statue amidst it all, until she smiled warmly at him and said, “Take care of Humpty Dumpty for me” in the most serious tone he’s ever heard from her.

It didn’t occur to him who Humpty Dumpty was, until Hyesung pointed to an oblivious Sungjin and dissolved into a fit of giggles. Naturally, Dowoon followed suit.

Later, on the way to the chapel, Dowoon sneaked a kiss on the other man’s cheek. Sungjin didn’t withdraw—which would have been disastrous for the both of them, as he was the one driving—and instead began spewing out baseless threats to get back at him.

“I’ll tickle you. I’ll throw away your comic books. I’ll _thrash your drum set._ ” He deadpanned, but his subsequent smile gave him away.

“You wouldn’t.” Dowoon snickered. “You bought it for me. It was expensive—“

“Yeah, yeah. God.” Sungjin licked his bottom lip—and it was a lot sexier than it should be. “You already know you have too much power over me. Please stop abusing it.”

“No promises.” Dowoon leaned towards him, intent on giving another peck on his cheek. This time, Sungjin turned just enough for their lips to meet in a brief, haphazard kiss, but it was enough for the two of them to start laughing about it like drunken idiots moments later.

“Oh hyung. I love you a lot.” Dowoon confessed, in his small moment of weakness. He settled back into his seat, noting the large grin on the other’s face and mindlessly mirroring it.

“I know.”

Dowoon waited for what he was going to say next, but it didn’t come.

He huffed, and Sungjin’s expression morphed from one of forced normalcy to unfeigned mirth.

“You’re supposed to say  _ I love you too.”  _ Dowoon pouted to accentuate his displeasure at the matter, if not to make Sungjin’s smile reach his eyes even more.

Sungjin, ever the wise man, replied with “It’ll lose its meaning if I say it too much”. Dowoon would have messed up his hair in annoyance right now if it weren’t for the small, inconvenient fact that his hyung didn’t  _ have  _ hair anymore.

A thought struck Dowoon, then, compelling him to sit back and think of bringing it up. Was it worth talking about this now, on the way to an event that would require most—if not all—their emotional power? They had about five minutes until they got to their destination. As Sungjin drove the car into the upper district’s gates, Dowoon decided to speak.

“Hey, hyung.” He said slowly, sounding uncertain even to his own ears.

“Yeah?” Sungjin replied, keeping his eyes fixed on the road. This area of the city had winding, paved roads that weaved up and down the contours of the mountain, which required anyone driving here to concentrate.

It made Dowoon second-guess himself. Did he  _ have  _ to bring it up now?

But when was he ever going to muster up enough courage to say it? It’s not so earth-shattering to warrant complacency with time and location. He just needed to spit it out and get it done with. Sungjin wouldn’t mind the slightest bit.

...Or would he?

“When I start working…” Dowoon trailed off, letting doubt seep into his being at his hyung’s silence. He only dared to continue when the other man hummed, signalling that he was listening. “Let’s live together again. If you want.” He added, shame burning his cheeks.

“What about the bedroom? Are we gonna share?” He could hear the smile in Sungjin’s voice before he saw it.

“I snore.” Dowoon argued. It’s the sole propagating reason why they stopped sharing a bedroom some few years back, and he wasn’t to keen on experiencing Sungjin’s early morning crankiness from having yet another sleepless night. Especially when it’s  _ his _ fault.

“I’ll sleep before you do.” Sungjin didn’t sound too sure of himself. Dowoon almost laughed.

“You wake up easily. You’ll need to wear earplugs.”

“Then I won’t hear my alarm.”

“ _ Then,  _ I’ll just wake you up.”

“Okay.” Sungjin turned him then, just as he maneuvered the car into an empty parking spot. “Sounds good.”

“Oka— _ mmph—“ _

Maybe making out in the parking lot wasn’t such a good idea.

It was a  _ great  _ one.

 

**_fin._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oopsie, this was supposed to have around 8k words, but i only posted half of it. you guys have no idea how many cutoffs i have—i legit have a document that’s around ten thousand words just full of things i didn’t include in any of the chapters
> 
> the next part’s gonna be out next year. it’s gonna be better, both writing-wise and story-wise, cuz this bitch ain’t gonna settle for less. in the meantime, i’m working on a spinoff story for this series, which is about jungkook and his half-brother. that’s where i depart from angsty twenty-somethings and write about... um, problematic twenty-somethings. you’ll see what i mean.
> 
> i really hope you guys enjoyed this story, not only for my many uses of “just” but also for my portrayal of the characters as well. it’s been a fun journey so far, but this isn’t the end (yet).
> 
> ‘til next time <3


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